Opal
by poetrygurl
Summary: This is a story about Opal Harris, an American witch who is accepted into Hogwarts. She goes to live with her Aunt Kella. When she finds out there is some kind of mystery surrounding a legend about her, her aunt, and Harry Potter, she gets worried. Oh,
1. Odds 'N Ends

Odds 'N Ends:  
  
First of all, I'd like to say that none of the characters in the following chapters are owned by me, except for the lovely Opal Harris and Aunt Kella, and various names I stuck in here and there (during the Sorting and so forth). Her parents are of my creation, also, as are any other ones that- duh- do not appear in the Harry Potter series.  
  
I'd like to thank J.K. Rowling for creating this brilliant masterpiece and helping us get the creative juices flowing. And for doing such a wonderful job on designing a work of literature that so many people have enjoyed and been enlightened by. Thank you also to the fanfiction.net staff so that they keep this place clean and organized, and they give us a chance to "unleash our soul" I think it is.  
  
And finally, I appreciate Julie, my best friend, for helping me feel like a better person all of the time, which in turn helped me to write these stories. Thanks, Jewels. And appreciation expressed to Loony Loopy Lupin, you are one good writer, start posting more stories! And of course anyone that reads and reviews my fics. All of you are "spiffy".  
  
Hint: these chapt. are really, really long, so I suggest you copy them or print them out so that you have a chance to read them all thoroughly. Cuz ya know. I'm positive you want to. ;-)  
  
* This is also a disclaimer for all of my other fan fics, saying that I do not own the characters, even though I wish I did, etc. *  
  
HAPPY READING!  



	2. Arrival

Arrival

Arrival

The midnight blue sky was clear and sharp looking. Silvery, shadowy mist smudged its appearance, and the bright, yellow moon was peaking out from behind what was probably the only cloud in the sky. As I raised my eyes to the twinkling lights above me, I noticed that stars always appeared brighter, clearer, and crisper when the moon was hidden.

I drew the silky, cream-colored curtain back into place and tried to get settled in the deep, plush, cushiony airplane seat. It took me awhile, but finally, slumped down and slightly cramped, with the smooth, satin pillow stuffed behind my head and my seat reclined, I was able to feel comfortable at last.

I was sitting in first class. My parents had made sure of that. They didn't want their sweet, precious, fragile Opal to be exposed to the filth and scum of coach. Frankly, I'd opted for the smaller, harder seat and regulation-size pillow. It felt as if I were sinking in all this foreign material!

I closed my eyes and, before I could stop them, the horrible images from the past two weeks invaded my brain, trampling and stomping all the good things I could have been thinking about. I saw before me the looks on my parent's faces when they read the official-looking letter from Yolanda Witches Academy for the Performing Arts. They had been absolutely certain that I would be accepted! I cringed inwardly as I recalled the way Mother's smile had faltered and Father's face had dropped. I had let my head fall into my hands, my fingers pressing at my eyes, willing the tears to go away. But they didn't, and the floodgates had opened.

As I silently shook, the salty tears streaming down my face, Father slipped around the table and sat down beside me, resting a big hand comfortingly on my back. This tender gesture made me choke, and the crying quieted for a bit and turned into snuffles and gulps. Mother had stiffly placed the thick, beige parchment on the smooth, mahogany tabletop.

"Well," she said coldly, her lips pursed. "Now we know who hasn't been studying."

I clamped my lips shut. Talking back to this cruel, wicked person would have no good consequences. However, despite my resolutions, a few unchecked words slipped out. "You know I was studying. You wouldn't let me out of my room! I couldn't do anything else. I tried my hardest. It just wasn't good enough! Can't you ever accept that? You're always making excuses for me, but I have a newsflash for you: sometimes the truth is better than the lies you make up!" I sat back defiantly. I knew I had gone too far with that last one. Father had removed his hand from my back and now sat stiffly, eyeing both his wife and myself wearily.

Her eyes flashed angrily. "How dare you accuse me of lying! There is utterly no excuse for that behavior. Ever. I might have excused the other comments, but I can tell that life in the lap of luxury has made you a greedy, ungrateful, little brat!"

Her insults were like spits of fire. Tears burned behind my eyes again, but I wouldn't give her the pleasure of seeing me cry. I stood up shakily and raced from the room, up the marble staircase in the front hallway, and down the dimly lit corridor until I came to the chamber I'd searched after. My father's study.

Entering quietly, I tiptoed behind the desk and slid down to the floor. With my ear pressed to the hardwood, I could clearly hear everything that my mother was saying to my father, and vice versa, in the kitchen below.

"She's fine, Deena. There's nothing wrong with her. The tests are drastically difficult. I see no point in discussing it more."

"That girl is bright! Outrageously bright! There is no possible way that she could have not gotten into Yolanda's if she hadn't purposely missed questions! She makes me so infuriated some times!"

Father laughed. "She's just like you! You're both stubborn and quick with words and short-fused! Let us consider the possibilities. Maybe she doesn't want to go to Yolanda's."

There was a pause. Then Mother spoke, so softly I could barely hear her, "The only other alternative is to send her to that boarding school in England. There's no other suitable witching highschools in the United States. And even then, that one's co-ed."

Father let out a sigh. "Let's talk it over with her in the morning, when both of you have cooled down a bit." There was a screech of their chairs and then footsteps as they left the kitchen.

I sat up, confused. No one had ever even mentioned a school in England! This had come way out from left field! Well, I thought to myself. I absolutely refuse. There is no way I am going to allow myself to be dragged off to some school in a foreign country. No possible way.

But, as you can tell, there was a way. At the first prospect of staying with Aunt Kella, I had reconsidered. Aunt Kella wasn't really my aunt. And her real name wasn't Kella. She was my mother's best friend from their highschool days, when they had both attended Yolanda's. They had parted at the end of school and gone their separate ways, vowing to stay in touch. And they had. Aunt Kella visited us for certain holidays, and we tried to go up to England as often as we could. Which wasn't very often. My parents are entrepreneurs, and they always have business to attend to here in the U.S.

I've been to her house twice. The first time was when I was I little kid. I was about three. I don't remember much, except that the next door neighbors were awful. They were rude, mean, loud, and obnoxious. The boy that lived there was my age, and he was disgusting to look at: quite heavy and pig-faced. He was also greedy. The second time we visited was only for three days, on a weekend. The family next door wasn't there, thank goodness. I was going into fifth grade that summer.

Aunt Kella's real name is MeKelleine. When I was three, and visited her for the first time, I could only pronounce "Kella". It stuck, and so now that's what everyone in my family calls her.

For the first time since I'd boarded the plane, I smiled. I couldn't wait to see Aunt Kella. I had so much to tell her. I guess the next couple of years wouldn't be so bad, as long as I had her.

(*)

I stood on my tiptoes in the gigantic crowd of people and searched desperately for my beloved aunt. My eyes reached into all corners of the room as they scanned the faces of everyone surrounding me. As I returned to the ground, I let out a dejected sigh and rolled my suitcases towards the food court right next to the gate. We had agreed that if we couldn't find each other when the passengers dispersed, we would meet in the food court and share a quick lunch. I found a table for two in front of a Chinese nook and dropped my two huge duffel bags down next to my three large suitcases.

I smoothed my loose, ankle-length, navy blue skirt and straightened my white spaghetti strap tank top and sat down. Sitting for hours and hours on a plane can cause pretty severe wrinkle damage, trust me! It was kind of chilly in the over-air conditioned lounge, so I slipped into my big, floppy windbreaker that I'd had tucked over my arm up until now.

As I glanced around, I couldn't help notice the differences in this country from America. Especially the people. Everyone walked with so much more grace, they appeared to be less rushed, and they had a certain warm, welcoming air about them that Americans did not. It struck me that we must seem pretty hostile to tourists or out-of-country visitors. This thought soon tugged the corners of my lips down into a sad frown.

"What's wrong, sweet? Bad flight? Jet lag?" the kind, warm voice of Aunt Kella made me spin my head in her direction and stand up clumsily.

"Aunt Kella! It's been so long! Oh, I've missed you so much!" I stepped eagerly over my bags and embraced her in a long bear hug. She hugged back, and pulled away after a few happy seconds. She kissed my cheek and smiled softly.

"Look at you, my dear! Oh, how you've grown. And you're hair! Why, you've hacked it all off! It looks positively lovely, though quite different, I might add," she ran her hand down my cheek. "It really has been too long."

Then she seemed to regain composure and sat down in the seat across from where I had sat earlier. "Well dear, do sit, we must decide what we are to do."

I sat obediently. I was only too glad to follow my aunt's orders. Now I must explain what she looked like. If anyone compared my mom to her, they would definitely know they are not sisters. My mom is younger, taller, thinner, and colder looking. She has wide, round blue eyes and thick, jet black hair that she wears straight, cascading down her back. Her nose is a bit long and bony, but her face has a fine, feminine bone structure. Aunt Kella is entirely different. She has, short, frizzy blond hair that is cut at shoulder length. It is usually in a ponytail to match her sporty dress code. She has small, crinkly sea-green eyes that twinkle with love and laughter. Her wide, happy smile always reaches her eyes and makes them wrinkle at the corners even more. She has a button nose, chubby cheeks, and a small, rounded chin. She's short, just under 5'2", and slim.

I get my looks from both my mom and my dad. I am tall and thin, thinner than I'd like to be. I try to build up body weight with muscle, but it still isn't right. I have my dad's straight blond hair brushing the bottom of my neck, which I usually wear down. It flips out, which really annoys me because it makes me look young and childish. I have my mother's eyes, and her bone structure, but my father's nose, thank goodness.

"Now dear, did you choose this seat for a reason?" My aunt smiled warmly and nodded to the Chinese shop behind me.

I laughed. "Yes, actually. If you don't mind. I've always loved Chinese."

"No objection here. I love the cuisine, also. Shall I go order?" Aunt Kella raised her eyebrows expectantly.

"No, let me," I argued, standing up. "What do you want? I think I'll just get some egg and spring rolls."

She waved the question away. "Just get a platter of both. Anything's fine, really."

I hurried to the counter, and, as I was waiting in line, Aunt Kella strolled over to me, slipping me a twenty pound note. "This should cover it. You can keep the change." She winked and strolled back to her seat at our table. I laughed. She knew I didn't need the money. My parents had already set up an account here at some wizarding bank on Diagon Alley, wherever that was.

When the line had progressed to the counter, I quickly ordered. When the food and drinks arrived, I paid, told the cashier to keep the change, and hurried back to our table with two warm platters and two styrofoam cups. One of the platters had five egg rolls, one five spring rolls. The cups contained Dr. Pepper.

As we ate, I told her about the flight, and the events leading up to my stay in this country. She had already heard a great deal of it from Mother over the phone, but she listened attentively all the same. When I got to the part about my getting rejected from Yolanda's, she exclaimed, "My dear, whatever for?"

I shrugged. "My score's weren't good enough, I guess."

She nodded and sat back. She patted her stomach. "Well, we best be off. We have so much to talk about tonight, and shopping to be done tomorrow." She threw me another wink and got up from the table, disappearing into the thick crowd.

I quickly got up and followed her, dragging my suitcases behind me and laughing under my breath. Aunt Kella was full of surprises that kept me on my feet!

(*)

"Would you like some more hot cocoa, Aunt Kella?" I shouted from her rustic-looking kitchen. She was in the livingroom, finishing up a second mug. I was brewing another pan full for herself and me.

"Yes, please!" she shouted back. "I do believe I could live on this drink, I really do!" I chuckled happily. We had been sharing stories all night long. I had found out that Mother was a real trickster with Kella! They had pulled so many pranks, and never gotten in trouble because of their sweet, innocent faces, pouty frowns, and false tears!

I sighed contentedly as I walked down the short hallway back the livingroom with its crackling fire, warm, soft armchairs, deep, comfortable sofa, tall reading lamps, and homemade blankets, knitted in a million different colors. What's more, Aunt Kella had enchanted them to keep turning colors while you were wrapped in them. And somehow, though she hadn't said, she had also managed to keep them forever tucked around you no matter how you squirmed and fidgeted about.

When I walked into the livingroom, I glanced at the huge family portrait above the fireplace. Aunt Kella's sisters were trying to get their small children from running off, two old men were watching a small, handheld TV intently, and Kella was sitting backwards in a chair, playing poker with three of her teen nephews. A ball cap was tucked backwards on her head and an unlit cigar was dangling from the corner of her mouth. I couldn't help it. I laughed outright.

Aunt Kella glanced up at the photograph. Then she smiled. "Yep. I was always the tomboy in my family. Always running off with my brothers. My mum thought it disgraceful, but I kept at it!" We shared another laugh, and I noticed the leather bound photo album in her lap.

"Pictures!" I squealed. I quickly dropped down next to her on the sofa and handed her the warm drink. After taking a sip, she set it down on the coffee table and nodded, opening it up as she did.

"Yep. Utter Humiliation Time!" We laughed again, and I settled down for a long, happy night.

Before I focused on the picture of Aunt Kella as a baby, my mind wondered briefly. What had she meant earlier, about shopping to be done? I had everything I needed with me. Didn't I?

Then I was back in the present. And all other thoughts drifted out of my mind as I laughed and giggled, gasped and ogled, at the moving, colorful pictures of my aunt and her colorful past.


	3. The Shopping Expedition

The Shopping Expedition

The Shopping Expedition

"Ughh," I muttered to myself early the next morning, as I sat up wearily in the guest bed. "Jet lag finally kicks in."

I clutched my stomach as the five cups of hot cocoa swished around inside of me. Aunt Kella and I had stayed up until midnight, swapping stories. I had told her all about my adventures with Jennifer, my best friend back in the States, and she had shared tales about her family and friends when she was a girl my age.

Now it was 8:00 A.M., on the morning of August 29, and I had three days to get all my shopping done. I assumed I had a school supplies list, but I had yet to see it. Aunt Kella said she had to arrange everything with the Hogwarts School Board Staff to make sure my transaction from one country to another went smoothly. There would be no bumpy roads from here on out! I was soon to be an official resident and student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Hogwarts. What kind of name was that? It sounded horrible. Like some species of frog or pig or something. I shuddered at what the school must look like. Located deep in a marshy, humid swamp, it was probably haunted and falling apart.

I shuffled to the bathroom connected to my room in my pajama bottoms, an old T-shirt, and leopard print slippers. As I lifted up my face to the intricately carved mirror above the porcelain sink, I groaned again. I had fallen asleep after changing quickly, throwing my hair into a messy ponytail, and running a toothbrush around my mouth. I had been too tired to wash my face, and now mascara smudged my cheeks, lip liner was smeared across my chin, and my skin was dry and scratchy.

As fast as I could, I thoroughly scrubbed at my face with a gentle cream cleanser and applied fresh mascara and pink lip gloss. Then I raced to one of my suitcases, threw it open, and rummaged around. Finally, I extracted a seven and three quarters inch, ebony and phoenix feather, stiff and powerful wand. It felt warm in my left hand, my wand hand, just like it should. It fit perfectly, the surface smooth from so much use. I waved it in front of me, pointing to my face, and mumbled a Disappearance Charm under my breath. Then I smiled eagerly, skipped to the bathroom, and glanced in the mirror again. Yes! The bags under my eyes were gone!

More awake now, I hummed a merry little tune as I quickly threw on a pair of low-rider jeans, a blue, long-sleeve, boat neck top, and brushed my hair out before I put it back up into a sloppy bun. I picked up my purse and my windbreaker and rushed out of the room, after making the bed and tidying up a bit.

I happily entered the warm kitchen a minute later. The smell of bacon and pancakes wafted through the air. I breathed in deeply and slipped quietly onto a stool at the island which stood in the middle of the kitchen.

"Why Aunt Kella, I didn't no you knew how to cook!" I said loudly, over the sizzling and popping of grease in the frying pan.

She glanced over her shoulder with a broad smile on her face. "My dear, I'm a witch. What witch doesn't know how to make a good, healthy breakfast?"

I laughed as she turned off the stove and brought two plates stacked with bacon and pancakes over to where I was sitting. She slid across from me and placed them down in front of us. With a flip of her wand, two steaming dishes and two tall glasses appeared in front of where we each were sitting. My plate had six pieces of crisp bacon and three pancakes piled on it. The pancakes were dripping with syrup and butter. My glass was filled to the brim with cold milk. I noticed that the plates sitting in front of us were ten pieces of bacon and five pancakes less than they were a second ago.

"You're so good!" I praised, shooting Aunt Kella an admiring look in between bites. "You even knew how hungry I was!"

She chuckled. "It takes years of practice. And trust me, I've had a bit of time on my hands lately."

"So where are we off to today?" I said, wiping off my mouth with a paper napkin that appeared by my side.

"Diagon Alley," my aunt said. "There we shall get you what you need, and tour a bit. I believe Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor is a remarkable mid-afternoon treat stop. And I've heard tell that they have wonderful little restaurants along Fortress Avenue."

"What do we need to be getting for school?" I inquired, shoveling more soggy bites of pancake in my mouth.

She cleared her throat, set down her fork, and tapped her wand beside her plate. Instantly, a roll of parchment floated in from the entry hallway and settled gently onto the table. "Unroll yourself," Aunt Kella commanded, her twinkling eyes staring unwavering at the yellowed paper.

And it did. On it were uniform requirements, books that I needed, and other equipment.

UNIFORM

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3. One set of dress robes (any color) for night wear

4. One pointed hat to match dress robes for night wear

5. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

6. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

7. Clothing to wear under robes

BOOKS

1. The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 4)

by Miranda Goshawk

2. A History of Magic

by Bathilda Bagshot

3. Lunar Ecstasy

by Dominic Starbourne

4. Intermediate Transfiguration

by Emeric Switch

5. One Thousand More Magical Herbs and Fungi

by Phyllida Spore

6. Unearthing Magical Memories by Hilda Goshmosh

7. Magical Drafts and Potions

by Arsenius Jigger

8. The Monster Book of Monsters

Ed. Dean Hickelpunk

9. Muggle Breakthroughs: Past and Present

by Martha Cameron Badies

10. The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection

by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 cauldron (copper, group size 4)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

1 large plastic gardening tray

ink

parchment

quills

I faked a look of complete awe. "How many classes am I taking this year?!" I squeaked.

She smiled slyly. "No need to worry. I have a feeling that you won't be taking these all on the same day."

Slightly confused, I shrugged. I guess Hogwarts was a pretty weird school. I hopped off the bar stool and, with the help of my trusty wand, carefully maneuvered our plates, glasses, and utensils to the sink.

My aunt nodded curtly. "Not bad." Throwing me a wink, she stood up, grabbed her purse and the shopping list, and quickly walked from the room. Only when I heard the front door open did a hastily pursue. I grabbed my shoes from the hall and raced out the door to my aunt's old-fashioned, bright yellow Beetle.

(*)

My eyes widened as Aunt Kella pulled up in front of a shabby bar tucked in between The Shop Around the Corner and CD's and Things. A crooked sign with peeling paint hung above the door. In faded words it read The Leaky Cauldron. "This is what us in England like to call a pub. A might grubby-looking, but it is famous, nonetheless."

She pushed open the door and I followed. It was dimly lit inside, and the old bartender waved happily at my aunt. "MeKelleine! Why, I haven't seen you in ages! Sit yourself down right here and let me treat you to an iced pumpkin juice."

She lifted her hand in greeting. "Not now, Tom. I'm on business." She jerked her thumb at me.

I nodded hello.

"Why, another student for Hogwarts, is it?" Tom asked jovially. "A niece?"

"Yes," Aunt Kella answered tersely, making her way through the obstacle course of tables and chairs.

She pulled open the back door and sunlight flooded the room. I quietly followed, slipping outside and softly closing the door behind me. Through it, I could hear Tom call out cheerfully, "Good-bye! See you later, friends!"

"What are we doing out here?" I asked, glancing around. We were in the middle of a back alley. A tall brick wall stretched from one end of the yard to the other. A gray metal trashcan stood in the exact center of the wall. My aunt's eyes slid up and over, then, apparently finding the right brick, tapped it three times with her wand. At first nothing happened. Then, a tiny hole appeared. It grew larger and larger until an archway seven feet tall opened onto a cobblestone path that twisted out of sight.

My mouth dropped open and my eyes widened. "Wha--, how?" I stuttered.

My Aunt's smile stretched from ear to ear. "I'm always nervous when I do that. I'm always thinking I'm going to tap the wrong brick. Diagon Alley, love. Follow me?" And she strolled through the entrance way. I followed, tagging along on her heels. Glancing over my shoulder, I caught a glimpse of the entrance shrinking very fast.

"Where are we off to first?" I asked. I was not so awed by this street. It looked almost exactly like Pinewood Boulevard, one of the many hidden wizarding streets, back in New York. The stores here were bigger and nicer looking, I suppose. And they were called different things. But they all sold about the same equipment. There was Kettles Express, an overseas corporation. It sold bewitched pots and pans for witches that wanted to make only the best food for celebrations. I nudged Aunt Kella. "Do you shop there?" I asked with a smile, pointing to the store.

She hit me playfully on the shoulder. "Of course not! I'm a natural cook!" she protested, her eyes twinkling with laughter.

I wasn't sure if I should believe her, but I walked on silently, reading the store signs as I went. Flourish and Blotts, apparently a popular bookstore, Quality Quidditch Supplies, a sporting good store, Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, obviously the robes store, and many more. All places I would probably have to stop by to get the things I needed for school.

"First we're off to Gringotts, the only wizarding bank in London, to get some money out of your account. Then we'll head over to Madam Malkin's for your robes, than on to Professor Peterbott's Protective Wear, and all the other stores. We'll be doing a lot of walking, you can be sure," she explained everything to me hurriedly while glancing down the shopping list and making notes in the margins with an electric blue, peacock feather quill that had suddenly appeared in her left hand.

I was silent as we walked to the bank. I had heard of Gringotts back in the State's at my private witches' junior high, though I hadn't known there was one on Diagon Alley. Completely run by goblins, the underground vaults could only be reached by carts on tracks. The labyrinth of tracks was so hard to follow that no attempted robbery was ever completed. Supposedly, there were awful things down there to make sure no robber ever escaped.

When we reached the tall, distinguished-looking bank, I opted for staying in the lobby. Aunt Kella shrugged and asked if I was sure.

"Yes," I answered. "My stomach's not in the mood for a roller coaster today."

Aunt Kella chuckled and kissed me good-bye. While she was down there, she was going to withdraw some money from her own account and check up on some valuables in yet another vault. She wouldn't be back soon.

When she had gone, I pulled out my wand from were it was hidden in the deep pockets of my cargos and tapped my hand twice, than drew a picture of a rectangle in the air. Closing my eyes, I pictured the title and cover vividly. Suddenly, I felt a weight in my palm.

I opened my eyes and smiled. The 10th Kingdom was resting in my hands. I eagerly opened it and began reading.

When my aunt came back, I tucked the book and wand in my back pocket and we were off. Shopping spree, here I come, I thought gleefully.

(*)

I grabbed the velvet bag that was hanging from Aunt Kella's wrist and opened it. Strange coins rolled into my hand. "Is this mine?" I asked.

"Yes. The gold ones are Galleons. Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine bronze Knuts to a Sickle. It's the wizarding money most of our kind use. Similar to the metric system," she informed me.

I nodded understanding. "Yeah, I get it. Back in the State's, we used brass Pinkertons, copper Witts, and silver Selks. That was our wizarding form of money." I eyed the large lumps of Galleons and piles of Sickles and Knuts. "This is a lot!" I smiled. "Mother and Father must really think I need it!" Aunt Kella smiled, her eyes twinkling as we headed off down the street.

We were soon standing in Madam Malkin's robe store. "How may I help you?" Madam Malkin asked politely.

"We need robes. For Hogwarts," Aunt Kella explained.

"What year?" Madam Malkin questioned.

"Fourth," I spoke up from behind my aunt. "My robes from last year don't fit."

"Ahh! Three sets black, one set colored, one black hat, one colored hat, one black cloak, silver fastenings," she recited from memory. "Hop up on this stool."

I climbed onto the stool and Madam Malkin slid a silky black robe over my head. She started pinning it in the right places and soon she was measuring me in different spots. As she measured around my head, she asked, "What color robes do you want?"

"I was leaning towards a pale blue," I suggested. "None of the houses have that as one of their colors, do they?"

"No, I don't believe," Madam Malkin answered as she pulled a baby blue hat with a lacy fabric streaming from the point at the top from a shelf beneath the counter.

After getting measured for the robes, hats, and cloak, I hopped down from the stool. The whole process had taken less than thirty minutes. I opened my bag. "How much?"

As Madam Malkin wrapped up my new clothing items in tissue paper and slid them into a paper bag, she glanced over at a price chart hanging on the wall. "Eleven Galleons, thirteen Sickles, please," I counted out the money and gave it to her. I was pleased to see I still had quite a heavy bag.

The bell tinkled as we left the store and walked down Diagon Alley to Peterbott's. We were in and out of there quickly, seeing as how there was a metal bin full of dragon hide gloves as soon as we walked through the door.

We worked our way up Diagon Alley, stopping here and there to pick up things we needed, and to visit with friends of Aunt Kella. Soon, it was noon and we only had my books to get.

Aunt Kella had started to look tired a ways back. "How 'bout we stop for lunch now, dear?" she asked, slightly winded.

"That's fine with me. Where to?" I said, popping the chewing gum I had picked up at a streetside cart. The strawberry flavor never went away. I was finding that I liked Diagon Alley very much.

"How about a deli? I saw a great little shop a ways back. We could pick up sandwiches, fruit drinks, and potato salad. I believe they had a patio where we could eat," Aunt Kella suggested. The mention of lunch seemed to perk her up slightly.

"Terrific idea!" I praised, linking my arm through hers. We started back down the way we had come. The deli was on the corner of Fortress Avenue and Diagon Alley. Fortress Avenue was obviously the food district, as all I could see for blocks were restaurants and markets.

Inside the deli, we both ordered BLT's on toasted white bread, a side of potato salad, a helping of warm peach cobbler, and a tall glass of fruit punch. When our food arrived, we paid, my treat, and went outside to the tables with umbrellas. Aunt Kella chose a table near the street with a yellow striped umbrella and plopped down.

After splitting up all the food equally and digging in for about five minutes, she asked, "So, how do you like it? Does it all seem too much for you?"

I licked off a bit of potato salad from my plastic fork and answered enthusiastically, "It's great! Fabulous! I'm having the time of my life today. And staying with you is a lot more fun than staying at that mansion back in New York where everybody is about a mile apart in separate rooms. The people are all nice and helpful, and the prices are great! So is the quality."

Aunt Kella laughed. "Well, I can tell you are enjoying yourself!"

"Definitely. So, where are we off to next? Are we going to that bookstore I saw earlier? Flourish and Blotts?" I asked.

"Yes. My, how observant you are! Then we shall pay a visit to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. If we have any time left, we shall stop by the Magical Menagerie. That's a good magical pet store. Maybe we can pick you up and owl?" Aunt Kella finished her sandwich and raised her eyebrows.

I beamed. "That would be wonderful! I've wanted an owl for so long, but my parents had to go and get me some fancy, expensive bird. It was just so they can show off. The bird was named Miranda, and she was so stuck-up. An owl would be so great!" I stood up abruptly. "Well? Let's go!"

Aunt Kella laughed and gathered up the trash. Dumping it into the wire trash basket near the entrance to the store took longer than it should have. Finally, she wiped her hands on her jeans and beckoned for me to follow her.

I hurried after her, leading the way up the street. I spotted Flourish and Blotts and picked up my pace. When I entered, I was surprised with the stacks and stacks of books. I sighed contentedly. This was just the place for me. But the thought of a beautiful, fluttering owl quickly took over my mind. I ripped the book list from my aunt's hands and thrust it into those of a salesman nearby. "Please," I begged. "Quickly get these books for me and ring them up." I clasped my hands in front of my face and pouted.

He glanced over the list and then up at me. "Hogwarts, fourth year?" he questioned, arching an eyebrow.

I nodded vigorously and motioned for him to get a move one. He trotted away and began piling books on the counter. The stack kept getting taller as I waited impatiently, tapping my foot. Aunt Kella was leaning against the door frame, giggling. I really couldn't see the humor in all this, but I let her laugh her self silly as the salesman came back with the last book.

As he rang up my purchases, my eyes strayed to the Fiction section. A few interesting titles caught my eye. I peered closer at them. They were under the Teen category, so they must be okay. I quickly walked over to the racks and checked out some more. They were all something that had to do with fantasy or magic. I grabbed a complete set of the Chronicles of Narnia and two more books, A Day in the Life of a Teenage Wizard and 101 Ways to Use Your Wand and raced back to the counter. Now it was the cashier's turn to look annoyed.

"Why the rush?" he asked.

"We have to get to the Magical Menagerie to get me my new owl," I said. "Are you finished yet?"

He slid the plastic bag across the counter and told me the price. My mouth dropped. He shrugged. "The Chronicles of Narnia is a very expensive series. Especially in hardback." I set the handful of Galleons down, sighing. Then, with my aunt, we proceeded out of the store.

She smiled slyly. "I assume we'll skip Florean Fortescue's today?"

I laughed. "If you won't mind. I'd really appreciate it. We could go tomorrow."

She nodded. I thanked her and we set off down the street. Seeing as how the ice cream parlor was right across from the pet store, I knew it wouldn't have been too hard to make a detour, but I was both eager and tired. I really just wanted to get back to Aunt Kella's house and marvel over all my purchases at number five, Privet Drive.

(*)

As we entered the air-conditioned store, a cacophony of animal noises greeted my ears. Meows, bird calls, barks, hoots, and the gurgle of fish tanks were just a couple. I went up to the cash register, where a glass tank of sleek brown, white, and black gerbils talked animatedly about last night's Late Late Show. How they'd managed to watch it from their cage was beyond me, but gerbils are intelligent creatures. Shaking my head, I asked the witch behind the counter if they had any young, energetic barn owls.

She nodded and led me to a large cage where about ten barn owls were flapping and hooting loudly. I looked over all of them carefully, and about twenty minutes later, Aunt Kella and I exited the store with a cage, a brand-new, sleek black barn owl with goldish-brown specks, a kit that included wing clippers, pellets, food and water dishes, a bag of treats, some toys, and a packet of string to tie messages or packages to their feet, and a plain black box that fit into the palm of my hand and, with a tap of my wand, told me exactly where my owl was.

I was happy and content. My first day in the English wizarding world had gone exceptionally well. I had dozens of new things, a new pet, and the hope of a fun school year after all.


	4. The Dursleys

The Dursleys

The Dursleys

When my aunt made the left onto Privet Drive, I felt a gut instinct that something wasn't right. By the time she had pulled into her driveway at number five, I knew that something horrible was happening at that exact instant.

I clutched my stomach and a look of absolute disgust crossed my face. "Sweet, what's wrong?" my aunt said worriedly as she glanced at me after she turned the engine off. "Too much excitement for one day, I suppose."

I shook my head violently. I felt like I was going to throw up! After a few seconds however, the feeling had passed. I cautiously popped the door open and climbed out. What could have gone wrong?

I shut the door to the car and got my packages from the trunk. My aunt's arms were full of boxes and bags, and so were mine. I was also carrying a new ashwood cage with ivy twined around the bars. My new owl, which I had yet to name, fluttered around and hooted indignantly as I tilted her cage to fit in the crook of my elbow.

Suddenly, a low, swanky silver Cadillac screeched into the driveway next door. With a sinking heart, I realized that that must be one of Aunt Kella's awful, horrible neighbors. As she tried to find the right key to open the front door, I stared as a lumbering, enormously overweight man pulled himself from the car. He was singing some song about a huge drill sale, and he appeared very happy. A large, beefy, pink hand slammed the car door after grabbing a briefcase. His eyes traveled around the neighborhood, finally coming to rest on me. His face drained of color. His squinty, watery blue eyes widened. The appearance would have been funny if it hadn't been directed at me.

"Is that an o--, ow--, owl?" he finally managed, in a high-pitched, scared voice.

"Yeah," I said. "So?"

"You're one of them," he whispered in frightened voice. "Stay away from my family! Never, ever come here! Go away!" he shouted this in a deeper, more commanding voice. Then he raced into his house, slamming the door behind him.

I walked up to the front door and closed it behind me. My aunt had set the packages she was carrying in the front hall, so I set mine down carefully and went in search of her. I found her upstairs in her bedroom. She had four large, full bags and two gigantic boxes that she had set on her bed.

"What's all that?" I asked, gesturing with one hand towards the pile. She was admiring a set of pale green robes. They were silky looking and tied in the front with a thick, rope belt that had gold tassels on the end. The green brought out her eyes.

She laughed and blushed slightly. "I decided to pick up a few things for myself," she answered. "I haven't been to Diagon Alley in such a long time. It's almost like I've slipped away from the wizarding world, even though I subscribe to the Daily Prophet and work at a Witches' Aid Society. I was so excited to see all the stores and the friendly people again."

I smiled softly. "I think those robes will look fantastic on you, Aunt Kella," I said truthfully. "I came up here to ask you about something, though. Do you know your neighbors well?"

"Yes, of course," she answered, as she hung up the new set of robes in her closet. It was small, but with a slight tap of her wand and a softly mumbled charm, she had bewitched it to hold as many clothes as she put in it without looking crammed.

"What about the ones at number four, Privet Drive?" I asked hesitantly. It seemed that even mentioning them may destroy the lighthearted, happily exhausted mood.

It did. Well, at least diminished it. "Oh, you must be talking about the Dursleys," she said in a bitter voice. Her eyes had squinted and her jaw began to twitch. "The biggest Muggles I have ever come in contact with. Why?"

I told her what had happened. She bit her lip, a puzzled look surfacing on her intelligent face. "Huh. I wonder how he knew. I'm positive he couldn't have a relation that is even semi-wizard. I hate to say it, but I need to find out and write a letter to the Ministry of Magic," she informed me. "Muggles are not supposed to even have an inkling that witches and wizards exist. It could be very dangerous."

An idea began to form in my head. "Listen, I can be very discreet at times. How about I put on a polite, good-girl type attitude, worm my way into their house with my wand, hidden, of course, trick my way into getting treated for dinner, get information out of them, and then put Memory Charms on the whole household?"

My aunt looked at me, a mixture of admiration, pride, and hesitant fright showing in her eyes. "You know I would never let you do that," she started. I tried to interrupt her, but she held up a hand to silence me. "under normal circumstances. But under these circumstances, I find that a very good idea indeed."

I smiled. This was going to be so much fun! I had been such a prankster back at my old school, and I'd never gotten caught. I prided myself on how careful I always was and how thoroughly I planned everything out. And with Aunt Kella helping, everything would go much better.

We spent the rest of the afternoon planning and plotting. It was decided that I would go over with a lemon pie as a peace offering, flashing my best smile. I would be dressed up just the way people like the Dursleys want: plaid, pleated skirt down to my knees, in dull colors, black tights, polished maryjane's, a starchy white, long-sleeve blouse, a dull-colored sweater vest to match my skirt, my hair in a French braid. Then I would turn on the charm, my special quality. The ability to befriend almost anything on Earth. In case that didn't work, I would secretly use my wand, which would be tucked into my skirt, under my vest, to put a Charming Spell on them. I would get invited in for dinner, and, while helping the husband's wife bring in the food, I would sprinkle Bogweed onto the dishes. Bogweed is an invisible herb that makes it possible for any witch or wizard to ask any question at all to a Muggle, and that Muggle would always answer the truth. The only catch is that witches and wizards are free from its power and can see and taste it. Muggles can't, so I figured that I would be pretty safe, considering that the Dursley family wouldn't be hiding a wizard or witch on their premises. After they had spilled, I would excuse myself, saying that I must be going, and cast a quick Memory Charm on them.

Around 6:00, I fetched the lemon pie from the counter where it had been cooling and checked once more to see if the Bogweed was securely hidden in my necklace. See, I was wearing a huge locket, kind of tacky looking, under my shirt. It was long, so the Dursley's probably wouldn't see it. Inside the picture compartment I had placed a small bag of Bogweed. I would have to work incredibly fast to get it out of my necklace and onto all the plates before dinner started. That was the only tricky thing, seemingly, about the entire operation, and really, seeing as how I had nimble enough fingers, I could probably use them to my advantage.

I slipped the finishing touch onto my outfit, a tasteful leather coat (the only thing I would actually wear as part of an outfit later), and kissed Aunt Kella good bye. "Wish me good luck," I whispered. "I might need it."

"Of course, sweet, I wish you all the good luck in the world. Do you have everything?" she asked. I nodded.

'Everything' also included my tape recorder, which was tucked into a hidden pocket inside my coat. After I was sure everyone had eaten the Bogweed, I would retrieve the recorder and play it during my questions and their answers. Since Muggles are so effected by Bogweed, they wouldn't think to question me about it.

I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and walked over to number four. I knocked confidently on the door. From within the depths of the house, I heard a loud grumbling and then a scraping of chairs. A high, twittering voice. Loud, heavy footsteps, stomping down the hallway. A face appeared in the window in the door. It was the man I'd seen earlier.

"Go away! I told you, stay away from my family! I will not be bothered with your kind!" he shouted. But his head stayed in the window, eyeing me wearily.

I widened my eyes innocently. "Whatever are you talking about? Please, if I'm to be you're new neighbor, I feel we should get to know each other better. I've baked you a gift I hope you'll enjoy."

The head disappeared and the locks clicked on the other side of the door. Finally, it opened. The large man stood in the doorway, taking it up completely. Now he had removed his suit jacket, but didn't look much better. The buttons on his dress shirt seemed ready to pop off and speed at me like a bullet. A thought flashed through my mind that I should prepare to duck in case this actually happened. Behind him stood what could only have been his son. He looked just like his father, except he had about an inch on a neck, whereas the older version didn't, and straw-colored locks. His shiny blond hair lay flat against his skull, and it struck me again how pig-like he truly seemed. Next to him, stood what must have been the mother and wife. She was tall and thin, with a long, bobbing neck like a giraffe, nervous eyes and hands, and wispy blond hair.

"What's that?" the boy, who appeared to be my age, asked, his dime size eyes glued to the tangy-smelling yellow dessert I held firmly in my hands.

Well, duh, I thought to myself, but I answered him sweetly, "Why, this is a lemon pie. Straight from my Grandma's secret recipe book of fabulous home cooking. She's such a sweet old dear, and the best cook I've seen in my life." This was going to be easy. I could tell exactly what people like this wanted.

The man cleared his throat and drew his eyes away from the pie. "Exactly what do you want, girl?"

"I wanted to apologize for the mishap earlier. I brought this in case your wonderful family would like a treat tonight. I'm sure it would taste terrific with a scoop or so of vanilla icecream. And, well, I wanted to explain the owl, in case it threw you off. See, it belongs to my aunt, who works at the zoo. She had to bring it home because it has a broken wing. She made me carry it in. Personally I hate the wild beasts," I forced out these words, along with a disgusted frown. It wasn't my best performance, but they bought it.

The tall, thin women that had, up until now, just bobbed around in the background, pushed her way forward. She beamed at me. "Honey, take off your coat! We were just sitting down to dinner. Please join us?" she asked happily. I smiled back, a smile of victory.

As I entered the house, a skinny boy with messy black hair and taped black glasses that were resting halfway down his nose bounded down the stairs. When he saw me, he stopped midjump, his hand frozen on the banister. His brilliant emerald green eyes widened. "I didn't know we were having company, Uncle Vernon. Honest. I'm sorry," his voice was solid, but a hint of fright shook beneath the calm exterior.

Vernon Dursley shook a finger at the kid on the stairway. After a bit of scrutinizing, he seemed to be my age also. "Boy, you aren't supposed to act like that whether or not we have company. Now you take --er, what's your name, girl?" he turned and glanced at me.

"Opal, sir. Opal Harris." A second later, I wished I had given a fake name, but all I could do was hope he didn't already know who Opal Harris really was.

"Take Opal's coat. Now!" he thundered, his ruddy cheeks shaking violently.

I slipped out of it, and handed it to the boy. He hung it up in the hall closet.

"I'm sorry, dear. Let me introduce you to everyone," the women said. "I'm Petunia Dursley, this is my husband, Vernon, and this is are ittle wittle Duddy-do, Dudley." She wrapped her arm proudly around her son.

I cleared my throat and glanced at the unknown, bespectacled boy, now standing in the shadows. Petunia glanced at me and then followed my gaze. "Oh. Him. He's our, uhh, other son. Jeremy."

I noticed how her voice and eyes both seemed to go flat when she talked of Jeremy. I didn't see what was wrong with him. He looked a lot nicer than any of the other Dursleys, especially Dudley. But there was something about him that seemed familiar. And he certainly didn't look like the rest of them.

"Well," said Mr. Dursley. "Let's proceed to the kitchen."

We all tromped to the kitchen in single file: Vernon, Dudley, Petunia, me, Jeremy. When I entered the room, I realized that it must have been the most lived-in part of the house. The hardwood floor beneath my shoes was worn from many shuffling feet, and the large TV that sat on the counter was positioned at just the right angle so that everyone at the table could see it. The only thing that seemed out of place was the dark-paneled cupboard with about seven heavy, thick chained locks sitting in the corner. Somehow, I didn't think it wise to ask what was in it.

"Would you like me to help you get the food, Petunia?" I asked in my most polite voice. I knew she would jump at the suggestion.

"Sure!" she beamed at me. "Such a polite, helpful thing you are, dear! If you wouldn't mind grabbing the mashed potatoes and the fried chicken..." Then she plopped into a chair and rested her chin in her hands.

I turned to face the counter. This way, my back was to the table. As fast as I could, I whipped the necklace out from underneath my shirt, cracked it open, and sprinkled the contents of the plastic bag into the mashed potatoes. It quickly sank into the fluffy whiteness, and some disappeared below the surface just like I'd hoped it would.

There was a lot of mashed potatoes. And fried chicken. And corn on the cob, green beans, tuna casserole, lamb stew, banana nut bread, and egg salad. My eyes widened at the spread as I set down the last two platters. With all the food, there was hardly any room left for our plates!

As I slipped into my seat, I caught Jeremy's eye. He glanced at the mashed potatoes and gave me a meaningful stare. I almost choked. What?! How could he know about the Bogweed? Could he see it? Maybe he'd just seen me put something into the food. I quickly glanced around the table. No one else appeared to notice the neon green light shining from the mushy white vegetable. In fact, no one was even looking at me or the mysterious boy. They were all shoveling food into their mouths and onto their plates.

Dudley was busily alternating slurping the stew, forking salad into his mouth, and munching corn. Vernon was gnawing on a chicken leg and gulping a milkshake he poured himself from a large pitcher. Petunia was daintily chewing a piece of bread and nibbling on a forkful of potatoes. It was enough to make me sick. I helped myself to a piece of chicken, a glass of water, a small bowlful of stew, and a helping of casserole. I wasn't feeling too hungry.

The food was good. I wouldn't have minded having a dinner like that once a week or so, but not every night. I couldn't help going back for seconds. It was the conversation that really got to me. Vernon was one, long, never-ending complaint of his company, Grunnings, and Petunia could think of nothing better to do but gossip about the neighbors down the street and gush over Dudley. Dudley, the greedy, selfish person he was, basked in it, and never passed up a chance to ask for something. Jeremy seemed to be the only sane person there, but seeing as how the rest of the family didn't like him, I didn't talk or look across the table very often. He had only nibbled the potatoes, and then gulped some water down, like he was trying to rid his mouth of a horrible aftertaste. My stomach started to sink. Was he a wizard? For the remainder of the meal, I sat, politely answering questions, and smiling in the right spots.

When every last morsel of food was gone (I'd stopped eating about thirty minutes earlier), Petunia stood up and began to clear the plates. I jumped up to help her, and then brought in the desserts. There seemed to be as many desserts as there had been food! Along with my lemon pie, there were M&M cookies the size of my hand, a chocolate cake, a chiffon pie, rice pudding, and a gallon of Ben & Jerry's Wavy Gravy.

As everyone helped themselves, I stood up and asked were the bathroom was. Then I dashed out to the hallway, grabbed the recorder from my coat pocket, and raced back into the kitchen. I pressed the record button and stood silently in the doorway.

I spoke loudly and clearly, so everyone could hear me. "Where does Dudley attend school?"

Vernon swiveled his head in my direction. "Smeltings," he answered in a dull monotone.

"What about Jeremy?" I asked.

"Who's Jeremy? No one named Jeremy lives here," Petunia spoke up.

I glanced at the boy with the messy black hair and my eyes widened. "Who are you?" I whispered, training my eyes on him.

He stood up, knocking the chair over and grabbed at something behind him. Before he could get a good grip on whatever it was, I panicked, throwing my hands up, gripping my wand tightly. "Stationakious!" I shouted.

I'd frozen the room. No one moved or breathed. I'd turned everyone motionless. But it only worked for five minutes.

I dashed to Jeremy's side, and lifted the tail of his shirt up. His hand was tightly gripped around a long, smooth stick of wood. As I pried his fingers up, I realized what it was. A wand.


	5. Confusion

Confusion

Confusion

"Oh... my... word," I whispered under my breath. This boy, this Jeremy character, was a wizard. And these were obviously the people he lived with, parents or not. They must not have wanted me to know what he was. And that would make sense, since they seemed to be the biggest Muggles ever. And the stuff locked in the cupboard was probably his wizarding equipment! Except somehow he'd gotten his wand out. But who was he? His real name wasn't Jeremy, so that was a clue. And he looked so familiar...

I glanced at the clock on the wall. I only had two minutes left. I pointed my wand at the mystery boy and said in a commanding voice, "Obliviate!" Immediately, a dreamy expression took over his features, and his eyes rolled up to the ceiling. In turn, I pointed it at each one of the Dursley's, then raced to place my dishes in the sink. I glanced at the clock again. 45 seconds.

As fast as I could, I sprinted to the hallway closet, tore my coat off the hanger and slipped out the door just as Vernon roared, "Boy, get back in your seat! What do you think you're doing, wondering around the kitchen? And straighten that chair up! What am I going to do with you?"

I ran full out across the yard, jumped lightly onto the porch, ripped open the door, and skidded into the foyer. I bent over, hands on my knee, gasping for breath. That had been so scary! But also very, very exciting.

My aunt calmly entered the entrance hall, took in my flushed face and gasping breath and, with a flick of her wand, made a large chunk of chocolate appear in front of my face with a pop. "Eat that, dear, you look green around the gills. So, how was dinner?"

(*)

In a rush, the words tumbling out of me, I explained everything that had happened. I included the description of the boy and the Dursley's, the favoritism Petunia and Vernon showed Dudley, even all the food. I left out the part about me being so taken to the mystery man. For all I know, he could be a powerful Dark Wizard!

Her face took on a look of understanding when I mentioned that 'Jeremy's' hair had been so thick and messy that his bangs fell into his eyes and over his forehead.

"... and so, in a panic, I froze the room, put Memory Spells on everyone, and got the heck on out of there," I finished triumphantly. "But the question still remains: who was that boy?"

Aunt Kella's face had paled considerably during my recount of the dinner. "Well, dear, I trust that you cleaned up your plate and so forth," she told me, nodding her head up and down. I could tell that wasn't what was on her mind, however.

"Well, yes, but..." I trailed off, staring at her inquiringly. "Do you have any idea who he was?"

"I have my suspicions, but I'm not going to tell you. Now go on upstairs and pack your trunk as much as you can. You won't have any time tomorrow. We're going to visit the Ministry of Magic, Worthwhile Wands, and buy you some new clothes to wear under your robes. You can't wear that baggy clothing like earlier today, now can you? Your robes won't fit over them!" She laughed, slightly hysterically.

I placed a concerned hand on her shoulder. "Aunt Kella, you're blabbering. Calm down!" I knew she wasn't going to tell me anything more about the mystery boy, so I asked, "What are you going to do now?"

She started off down the hallway. "I'm going to compose a letter to the Minister of Magic, asking for an explanation. I'm sure he'll have one. Then I'm going to send it to him by Express Owl. I want an answer back tonight." With that, she slammed the door to her study.

I stared after her. It wasn't like Aunt Kella to storm away from somebody without any answers. I glanced at the grandfather clock in the hallway. It was already 7:25! If I was going to get a good start on my packing, I would have to start right now.

I raced up to my room and pulled my trunk out from beneath my bed. I'd gotten it when Jennifer and I had been shopping for my move, and she'd directed me towards a classy, elegant shop called The Bombay Store.

As soon as I'd stepped into it, I knew I'd fallen in love. Everything was for sale: the mirrors hanging on the walls, the furniture in the living room setup, the bed and the pillows and the dressers and lamps. I'd grabbed everything I wanted, including a huge, beautiful old trunk. It looked like an authentic pirate's treasure chest with its heavy locks, burnt gold trimmings, rich blue velvet lining, and hidden compartments. Among other purchases were a full-length mirror that stood in the corner of my room, two wall photo fold-outs for Hogwarts, an insanely comfortable afghan knitted in brilliant, dark colors depicting a bustling, London scene on a dreary, rainy morning, assorted other picture frames, and a nightstand with long, curving legs and a small drawer for Jennifer. It was her going away present.

As I sifted through my duffel bags and suitcases, picking and choosing what to take to Hogwarts, I stumbled upon a dusty photo album. Gulping, I plopped down on my bed, drawing the huge, overflowing book onto my lap. Flipping to the back pages, I smiled sadly at pictures of Jennifer, Jack, and Kenny. We four had been best friends for years, and I had been going out with Jack until I left. We decided to break up, because we knew the long distance thing wouldn't work. We're still really good friends.

I paused on a black and white picture that had been taken on the beach this past summer. All three of us had been packed together with our arms around each other. Jennifer, with her thick, dark blond mane of tumbling, curly hair and her wide, clear eyes, looked beautiful, just like usual. Kenny, tall and lanky with bright red hair and white sunscreen coating his nose looked cocky and slightly out of place, but cute as heck. Jack, trim and muscular, slightly taller than me, had dark, curly hair and a great smile as well as sparkling green eyes. He had his arm wrapped around my neck and I was holding onto it in front of me. We'd had a great time that day.

I slipped the picture from its sleeve and placed it in the slim packet of pictures I'd extracted from the album to use in the picture frames. Placing the glossy pile carefully in the back pocket of the photo album, I sighed. I missed New York already. My friends, the old neighborhood, my dad... even my mother. Nodding my head, I realized that even after the fight we'd had before I left, I still loved my mom so much and missed her presence. Resolutely, I decided to call her before I left for Hogwarts the day after tomorrow.

I settled the photo album neatly into a corner of the trunk and placed the tissue-wrapped frames on top of it. Then I reached for the books, equipment, and robes I'd brought today. I stacked those neatly in the other corners and wedged everything in so I was using all the room and not leaving any space for anything. As I placed the last book, spine upward, in the organized row I'd made along one side of the trunk, I tapped my chin with one index finger thoughtfully. What was I going to bring to make the dorm more personal?

I reluctantly folded the soft, warm afghan that I'd kept on my bed ever since I bought it into a small, efficient square and placed it into a tight space just big enough for it. Then, as if on second thought, I raced to the bathroom and got my small makeup bag off the counter, slipping it into the trunk, also. Returning to the bathroom, I packed my huge load of toiletries into a large knitted bag and placed that in the luggage. I'd made the pouch in junior high Bewitched Home Ec. A slender, special thread I'd woven into the bag charmed it to never rip or fall apart. I glanced around the room. A small desk calendar, a travel alarm clock/radio, my Discman and headphones, a CD case with my favorite hits, my most comfortable slippers, and an old pair of running shoes I'd had for years all went into the trunk.

Furrowing my brow, I glanced around again. There was something I was missing. I spotted my compact Notebook laptop resting on my bed. Hurriedly I picked it up and slid the soft blue-colored machine into a gap between the trunk and my CD case. Chewing on my lip, I glanced around again. There's something else, I thought to myself with exasperation.

I spotted the three items that had been hidden in my memory: my mother's antique jewelry box that she'd given me when I turned thirteen, my camera equipment, and my huge book of magic advise. It had spells, stories, tips, and connections tucked away in the thick, dusty pages. Passed down from my father's side of the family, it was the most treasured thing I owned. The camera equipment was a hobby I'd picked up a couple years ago. I'd gotten hooked on taking pictures and developing them myself. I slipped the three valuable possessions into the trunk, and stepped back to admire my handiwork. After tossing a couple more worthy articles into extra space, I was satisfied with how I'd packed. I had ample room for the new clothes I'd get tomorrow. I could go to bed.

After changing into comfortable PJ's, brushing my teeth, washing my face, and pulling my hair into a short ponytail, I slid under the warm covers. Reaching out, I clicked off the lamp on my bedside table.

After laying in the dark for several minutes, trying to get to sleep, I had that awful sensation in my stomach again. I sat up, and the sudden movement made my head explode with dizziness. I rotated my neck to get the headache to go away, but it wouldn't. Then my stomach started to crawl and squirm, like I hadn't had anything to eat for dinner.

But I had, and these symptoms worried me. What if I had picked up a bug from the plane or one of the stores I'd gone to today? Maybe they wouldn't let me into Hogwarts! Startled, I realized I was actually in dispair over not being let into that awful-sounding school. That's a first, I mused, a small smile playing on my lips.

Suddenly, every muscle in my body started to ache. All I could do was lay back down and moan, writhing around on the bed. Every thought of Hogwarts disappeared from my brain as every inch of my body was taken over by a violent pain. It seemed like someone was gripping me and squeezing the life out. I started to cry, tears streaming down my face.

All of a sudden, the pain stopped. It just vanished, as quickly as it had started. Just like earlier this afternoon.

I sat up in bed, wiped the tears from my cheeks, and flipped on the light. My watch, right underneath the lamp where I'd left it, indicated that the pain had only gone on for six minutes. But it had seemed like an eternity. What kind of disease did I have? I thought about it carefully, but nothing I'd learned came back to me.

Shaking my head, I told myself that I had to tell Aunt Kella tomorrow morning, right away. A small, nagging part of my brain said I shouldn't bother her with that, because she was so busy. I shook the feeling away. She deserved to know as soon as possible.

Easing myself back down onto the bed, I bit the inside of my cheek gently and forced my eyes closed. I had to get some sleep. Tomorrow was a big day for me.

It wasn't until much later, however, that my eyes stopped twitching and I fell into a fitful, restless sleep.

(*)

"Darling, get up. Sweetie?"

My aunt's cool voice drew me from a light sleep. Opening my eyes, I blinked wearily. Sighing, I drew the covers back around my aching, tired body.

"Sweet, you better get up. I called Cornelius, and he said that he had an opening for 9:00 this morning." At the sound of the Minister of Magic's name, my eyes flew open.

"Cornelius Fudge? Why'd you call him? What time is it?" I sat up in bed abruptly, glancing at my watch. 6:03. She must have been trying to wake me up for a couple of minutes. "Aunt Kella, when do we leave? What should I wear?"

Aunt Kella smiled her sweet, open grin and patted my hand. "Oh, wear something classy and suitable for visiting one of the most important men in Britain, I suppose. We leave at 7:30. I called him because I have to meet with him to discuss the ordeal last night."

I plopped back on my bed and groaned. "Do I get to be introduced?"

"Of course, but you'll have to go back to the lobby while we talk. I'm afraid it's too hush-hush, sweet. I'm sorry." She smiled sympathetically down at me, then stood up. "Well, I'll go take my shower and get ready. How about we meet out at the car around-" she glanced at my watch. "7:25. I figured you might want to explore the neighborhood a bit." She smiled slyly and slipped out of the room.

Shrugging, I shook my head to clear it. We had a long ride to get to London, so I figured I could tell her about the pain I'd had in the car. Rolling back my shoulders, I got out of bed, slipping my feet into a pair of grungy slippers I'd left out of my packing. Hurrying to my door, I opened it and called out, "Aunt Kella, should I wear a pair of my robes?"

"No dear, when we witches and wizards go out onto the streets, we don't want to attract Muggle attention." A second later, I heard her shower start. Oh, well. No more fashion advice this morning.

I grabbed the bathrobe I'd found hanging on the back of the door and hopped into the shower myself. Soaping up my hair, I worried about my aunt. What had I stumbled upon that was so big that she had to meet with the Minister of Magic? Biting the inside of my cheek, I thought about the Dark Wizard that boy could have been. Though only a child, I had seen an almost inhuman depth in the teenager's intelligent green eyes. It had nothing to do with attraction. The power was there, and he was so oblivious to it.

As I stood dripping in front of the bathroom closet's mirror, a yellow, terrycloth bathrobe tied loosely around my torso, I glanced at the shower curtain behind me in the mirror. Gasping, I spun around quickly. The vision was gone.

I clenched my jaw and clamped my mouth shut. It wasn't a vision. There hadn't been anything there. It was a figment of my imagination, resulting from not enough sleep.

Giggling, I thought about what I'd just seen. Eyes! Glowing black eyes, as black as coal, shifting, moving, staring into mine. Laughing outloud, I moved into my bedroom, wrapping the comfortable bathrobe around me. Opal, I told myself, you are seeing things. Get with the program!

I bent down and ruffled through my clothing. Pulling out an elegant, pinstripe skirt, I slipped into it, then into a silky, off-white blouse. Humming, I pulled on a pair of black tights and worked my feet into low, dark gray heels. After blowdrying my hair and twisting it up in a loose bun, tendrils framing my face, I quickly applied appropriate makeup and grabbed a small clutch. Throwing some stuff into it, I dashed out of the guest bedroom.

"Don't forget your coat, love!" my aunt's voice followed me down the stairs. Grinning, I grabbed my leather coat as I raced out the door.

Slowing my pace to a walk, I strolled down to the mailbox. Grabbing some bills, I pulled open the door to Kella's beetle and tossed them on the front seat. Closing the door, I noticed my aunt's car wasn't locked. I shook my head, glancing around the tidy, trim neighborhood, a content smile glowing under the soft red lipstick I'd smudged on. She was so lucky to live in a suburb like this.

I decided to take a walk. Starting down the pavement, I drew in a whiff of roses. Glancing to my left, I noticed that the Dursley's had a small, well-kept garden by the side of their house. Squinting my eyes, I took in 'Jeremy', sitting on a delicate white bench, covered in lacy green vines. He looked up as I walked past.

I shuddered and picked up my pace. There was that look of power in his eyes again. I could even see it from thirty yard away. Whatever he was, whoever he was, I did not want to get to know him.

I walked on, getting familiar with the street names and houses. I turned left on Golde Lane and noted the huge Victorian mansion on the corner. Soon I knew my way around the area well enough to be able to walk it at night.

By why would I ever need to walk it at night? To get away from something- or someone? The thought was out of my mind as soon as it was in. No one on my street was dangerous. Besides, I'd be at Hogwarts tomorrow, and I wouldn't have to worry about what happened on Privet Drive for an entire school year.

Turning around, I headed back to my aunt's home. Glancing at my watch, I realized it was a little after 7:00. I could grab a little breakfast and beat Aunt Kella to her own car if I hurried. As I rounded the corner near my aunt's home, I noticed Dudley Dursley in his front yard, playing catch with a short, rumpled boy who resembled a rat. Ducking my head, I hurried past them. Since I'd banished last night from Dudley's memory, he would probably hate me from the stories his father had told about my owl.

Just as I was thinking that I was in the clear, a stuffed-up voice called out, "Eh, who are you?"

I slowly turned around to face the two boys, huddled wearily in the center of the yard. Smiling pleasantly, I walked forward. Maybe they weren't that judgmental after all. Maybe Dudley was going to give me a chance to explain myself. "Hello. My name's Opal Harris, and I just moved in with my Aunt Kella next door. Do you like here?" I directed the question at the smaller boy to eliminate all possibilities that Dudley could remember me.

The boy shook his head no, jutting his chin at Dudley. "Not me, him."

Dudley grunted. "Yeah, I live here. My name's Dudley Dursley. My dad told me about you. He said you stared at him rudely and scowled at him, and when he asked you to take your filthy owl inside, you refused to."

I gritted my teeth. "Well, I don't believe that's what happened, and I'll be going." I turned away and started to walk quickly towards Aunt Kella's front door.

"Wait," a voice called out. It was clear and crystal, and very unlike scrawny Rat Boy or greedy Dudley's. Stiffening, I spun around quickly, hoping against hope it wasn't who I thought it was.

Jeremy stood in the yard, leaning against the front door, his eyes burning into mine.

(*)

"Do I know you?" he asked quietly.

I cleared my throat uneasily, glancing at my Aunt Kella's front door. Then I checked my watch. It was already 7:09. I didn't have much time left. Pressing my lips together, I looked up at Jeremy. "Umm," I started nervously. "I don't think so." Maybe he'll leave it alone, I thought desperately. I didn't think I could keep up with the unknowing act for much longer.

Jeremy tilted his head to the side, causing his bangs to slide messily across his forehead. "No, I think I've seen you somewhere," he continued. "But I don't know where." He smiled slightly and walked towards me, his hands stuck in his front pockets. Dudley and Rat Boy had apparently lost interest, as they had returned to tossing the baseball back and forth.

The mystery boy jutted his chin at Aunt Kella's house. "So, you live with MeKelleine le Fay, I'm guessing?" Jeremy inquired curiously.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, reluctant to give away too much information. After an awkward pause, I nodded hesitantly. "Yes." I glanced at my watch again, hoping he'd get a clue. This boy seemed friendly enough, but then again, he did live with the Dursley's.

He seemed to notice my discreet hint. Clearing his throat, he scratched the back of his neck. "Well, I guess you've gotta go." Eyeing my outfit, he continued, "You look kind of dressed up."

I nodded, relieved he wasn't going to question me more. "Yeah, I do have to go. I'm meeting Mr. Fu-" I cut myself off, realizing my mistake. Jeremy was a wizard, and more than likely knew who Cornelius Fudge was. Grimacing, I corrected, "I mean Mr., uh, Fredrick, my aunt's- er- boss."

"Yeah," Jeremy nodded, furrowing his brow. He looked confused. "Well, then I'll see you around. By the way, my name's-"

"Opal!" my aunt shouted from the front door. "We have to go!" She locked the door and briskly walked to the car, sliding in. I pasted a fake smile on my face, and gave Jeremy a quick wave.

I practically ran to the car, and when I slid onto the seat, I closed my eyes and sighed. "Thank you, Aunt Kella," I muttered appreciatively. Opening one eye, I gauged her reaction.

"Talking to the mystery boy, I see," she said evenly, not looking at me. Glancing in the review mirror, she slowly backed up and drove smoothly away from the house.

"Yeah," I said, groaning. "I still have no idea who he is. He was about to tell me his name, but you called."

"Uh-huh."

I turned to look at Aunt Kella full-on. She had a blank look in her eyes, and her gaze was focused on the road. She obviously wasn't listening. I sighed. This was not the time to tell her about all the pains I'd been having. I turned to the window and vacantly watched the boring, green landscape slide by.

Holding in a yawn, I thought of all that had happened since I showed up. Oh well, I told myself. You'll be at Hogwarts soon enough. And all the trouble will be left behind.

(*)

"Hullo!" the jovial voice made me sit up straighter. I looked around the large, comfortably furnished lobby and spotted an odd man standing in a doorway, a giant smile on his face and purple boots peaking out from beneath his midnight blue robes. He wasn't talking to me, however. His eyes were locked on Aunt Kella's.

I glanced at my aunt, but she wasn't looking at me either. "Neil!" she cried, jumping up from the plush armchair she had been slumped in for the past half an hour. Now she seemed filled with energy as she rushed towards the Minister of Magic and enveloped him in a huge hug.

"It's bloody good to see you, old girl!" the man cried again, kissing her cheek. "Why, it's been months!"

I sat quietly, puzzled by their friendly greeting. How in the world did they know each other? The secretary sitting in the huge desk next to his office door didn't seem as shocked as I. She fluffed her dyed blond hair and pushed her plastic, red eyeglasses farther up her nose. They slipped down almost immediately, but she didn't seem to notice.

"Kella," she purred. "It's so good to see you!"

Kella smiled warmly. "Bev. I've missed you." She hugged the supposed Bev briefly before turning back to Cornelius. She glanced at me. Crooking her finger, she smiled, beckoning me to go to her. I giggled and stood up, making my way over to the trio standing by the door.

"Neil, I'd like you to meet someone special. Cornelius, this is my niece, Opal Harris. Opal, this is the Minister of Magic, Cornelius "Neil" Fudge," Aunt Kella made the introductions smoothly, a hand resting on my shoulder.

I smiled, but inside I shook. I was standing in front of the most powerful man in Britain, someone my aunt seemed to be friends with from way back. I stuck out my hand and steadied my trembling fingers before anyone could take notice of them. "Hello, Mr. Fudge. I'm very honored to meet you." My voice quavered slightly with nervousness, but I pushed it down.

Cornelius was on the short side, and he beamed up at me. "Good to meet you, young lady! A pleasure, a pleasure. I've known your aunt since we were kids. We were penpals across the Atlantic, you know. Our schools paired us together. I went to Hogwarts, she went to Yolanda's." He smiled brightly again.

I grinned, too. So that's how they knew each other! "Well, I'll be attending Hogwarts tomorrow, so maybe I'll get a penpal from back in New York!" I replied, loosening up.

"Oh, no, dear, they stopped the penpals back when I was a- what? You say you're going to Hogwarts?" He looked surprised. "How long are you staying? What year will you be in? A transfer student?" He seemed confused.

I swallowed. "Well, sir, I'm fourteen, so I'll be in my fourth year," I explained nervously. "I'm staying with my aunt for the next couple of months, traveling home to the State's during winter break, and summer break, of course. I'm transferring because the administration said there was an opening. I don't really understand. My mother set it up."

He nodded knowingly. "Ah, yes. An opening, of course. I'm sure Dumbledore knows what he's doing over there." Then he drew in a breath and glanced at my aunt. Suddenly all business, he changed the subject to the matter at hand. "Well, MeKelleine, you said you had something to discuss with me?"

My aunt glanced at him. "Yes, yes, true. Your office?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

He nodded and led my aunt to his office. Suddenly, I had a brilliant idea. Before he could close the door, I gave my wand a casual flip and muttered,

"If you're going to eavesdrop, do it right,

thread a thread that's very light."

Almost before the words were out of my mouth, a thin gold thread shot out of the tip of my wand and wrapped around my aunt's right ankle. As she walked through the doorway, closing it behind her, the thread kept unraveling from the tip of my wand. When the pulling stopped, I gently tugged a foot more out and put my wand away. With some difficulty, I wrapped the thread around my right ear. Glancing at the secretary, I sighed with relief. She was deeply absorbed in a book, perched on the edge of her seat. No way would she notice what I was doing.

Turning to the wall, I closed my eyes and concentrated on what was being transmitted through the magical string.

"Cornelius, this is serious. You can't just ignore it. I want to be positively certain who that boy was."

A sigh, obviously from Mr. Fudge. "I know it seems absurd, Kella, but let me assure you: there's no need for alarm."

"But who was he?"

"Oh, I'm sure you know."

"I have my suspicions, but I need to be absolutely sure." My aunt let out a muffled groan. "Just tell me."

A sudden burst a static muffled Cornelius' reply, but Aunt Kella's gasp came in loud and clear. "That's what I assumed... but why me? Right next door!"

"Yes, I know MeKelleine. But allow me to repeat myself: there is absolutely no cause for alarm."

There was a long pause, and I was worried that the pair had gotten up to leave. Just as I was about to reel in the wire, Aunt Kella's voice came back, weary and drained. "Oh, Neil. You know my family history; you know his. This can't just be a coincidence. What about the prophecy?"

Cornelius clucked. "Kella, dear. You know Divination is all half-guesses and trickery-"

Kella cut him off. "Cornelius Fudge. You know better than to dump that load on me. The prophecy about Morgan le Fay and Merlin's heirs is true! It's in the books; the centaurs have predicted it in the stars; the planets are aligning; the time is near. I can't let this happen to Opal. But it will. Es destino. It's destiny."

"Oh, Kella, don't use your-"

"Cornelius! Listen to me! It's fate that Opal's come to me now! It's fate that brought her here, next door to that- him-" Her words cut off abruptly, and I could hear a sob ring out over the wire.

"There, there, dear. Please, don't worry about this. She'll be at Hogwarts, Dumbledore will protect her, nothing can get her there-"

"Oh, don't you see? Dumbledore, Hogwarts, Minerva, no one can protect her from what's bound to happen. You can't change what's meant to be." Suddenly, her voice seemed to harden. "Come now, Neil. I must be going. I still have to stop by Worthwhile Wands to check up on the basket drive, and Opal still needs a few new clothing items. Good-bye."

Hastily, I ripped the thread off my ear, gathering it into a tight bundle as it got looser and looser. As Aunt Kella strode back into the room, her face an unnatural, pasty white and her bottom lip quivering, I stood up quickly and walked towards my aunt. I gathered up the string as I went along, wrapping it around my index finger behind my back.

"Aunt Kella, what's wrong?" I asked, concerned.

"Nothing, dear. Come now. We must be going," she gracefully picked up her purse from where she'd left it and walked out the door. The string slipped off Aunt Kella's foot as she glided out of the room, but I made no move to grab it up. Instead, I turned to Cornelius Fudge.

"Thank you- for everything-" I stumbled over my words, walking backward to the door, pulling the thread into my hands as I went along.

Fudge nodded and stared over my shoulder in the direction my aunt had gone. Sighing, he stepped forward, locking his gaze on mine. "No. Wait," he started flatly, his eyes dim and full of dispair.

I gulped and stepped forward, glancing over my shoulder. Any second, Aunt Kella was going to notice my absence...

The Minister of Magic grabbed my upper arms. "You've got to listen to me," he said in a gruff whisper, his eyes frantically jumping all over my face. My own eyes widened in surprise as I stared back at the short, balding man. He licked his lips nervously before pressing on. "MeKelleine is one of my closest friends. I would never do anything to betray her- but the prophecy said..." he trailed off, then pushed on, more confident now. "Listen. You've got to understand; if Kella does anything out of the ordinary, anything major, you must get word to me at once. Don't hesitate. At once, do you understand me?" I started to nod, but he didn't wait for a reply. "Don't blame her. Great Wizards, don't blame her. It wouldn't be her fault if she changed. She knows she's going to... she doesn't want to... she thinks she can't stop it..."

He pushed me away, turned around, and stormed back into his office. I glanced at Bev, and she was staring at me in fright. She pursed her lips. "Move along, young lady. Get going. I'm sure your aunt is waiting for you by the elevators."

I moved down the hall towards the elevators, numb with shock. What had just happened? Not just the Minister's warning, but the overheard conversation. What did any of this have to do with me? Or Morgan le Fay, a very old, long-dead, distant relative of Aunt Kella's? Merlin, too. Why was he mentioned? And Aunt Kella had always been so violently against Divination. Why was she believing so strongly in it now? And why did this all have so much to do with that 'Jeremy' character? Was Aunt Kella the le Fay heir? What prophecy?!?

I shook my head, trying to clear it of all the jumble that had so quickly accumulated. It was all just a huge mass of confusion. So many complex problems, and no answers. Wherever I turned, there was just more and more questions, and not a single answer to any of them.

As I neared my aunt, I closed my eyes. I had to clear my head, pretend like nothing had happened. I took in a deep breath, counted slowly to ten, and raised my lids. Aunt Kella was staring at me curiously.

"Dear, are you sick?" she pressed a cool hand against my forehead.

A punch in the stomach. I remembered the pains I'd been having recently, and how I'd promised myself I'd tell her in the car. Well, now was the time to tell her. But she had so much on her mind, and I really, really didn't feel like talking.

"Nothing," I gently pushed her hand away. Phrasing my next words carefully, I calmly asked what had been on my mind since last night. "So, any idea about who that boy was?" I asked casually.

My aunt turned to me. The look in her eyes made me feel guilty. The windows to her soul revealed a painful, bone-weary burden, heavy-laden with secrets, lies, and legends. Why did I have to ask that? I scolded myself. After what she'd just been through! Still, I was awfully curious, and leaned in closer to catch the answer despite myself. When I realized what I was doing, I winced inwardly and took a step back.

Aunt Kella sighed and dropped her head. I placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to tell me-" I started, but she held up a hand to stop me.

"No. You should know. I mean, you're the one who went through all the trouble, right?" she sighed. "The boy, the wizard you saw... it was... Harry Potter."


	6. King's Cross Station

King's Cross Station

King's Cross Station

I sighed as I fell into bed that night. What a day. Thinking about what I'd heard earlier that morning, I grimaced. Harry Potter? How could I have not known? The dark, messy hair... clear green eyes... powerful strength I'd seen... everything about him shouted the name I'd read about since I was a little girl. And the scar. On his forehead. I hadn't been able to see it because of his bangs, but how could I not have known it was there?

Groaning loudly, I pressed my face into my pillow. Tomorrow I was going to Hogwarts, and who would be there? Harry Potter himself! I'd known he was going to Hogwarts. How come I hadn't even suspected that he was the mystery boy?

Probably because his relatives, Vernon and Petunia, were so Muggle-ish. Who were they, anyway? His aunt and uncle? More than likely. I'd learned about how James and Lily were killed by Lord Voldemort when he attacked the wizarding community at the height of his strength. Somehow, no one knew for sure, young Harry Potter destroyed Lord Voldemort. He stripped him of his power when Voldemort tried to kill him. Voldemort had no choice but to slink away and try to regain his almightiness on his own.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to fall asleep. I imagined walking into Hogwarts tomorrow, swishing to classes in my silky new robes, hiking around the grounds, sitting in the woods and reading my texts, listening to the Weird Sisters on my CD player, and fitting in. Sighing in content, I prepared to drift into sleep.

As a dream took shape in my head, I was sitting in Charms class, taking notes on parchment, when the door creaked open. I glanced up, expecting to seem some tardy students, but instead, Harry Potter walked into the room. He glanced at me and sat down in a seat near the windows. Outside it was dreary, rainy, and dark. Furrowing my brow, I glanced down at the watch strapped loosely around my wrist. 9:31. How could it be so dark when it was so early in the morning? When I glanced up at the window, my eyes locked on Harry's. All the thoughts of time and thunderstorms flew out of my head. Harry's piercing green eyes were all I saw...

"Ahh!" I screamed, sitting straight up in bed. Rubbing my eyes, I groaned, pounding the pillow with a balled up fist. Couldn't I stop thinking about him for one minute?

Sighing, I glanced at my watch, propped up against the base of my lamp. The sporty, digital face read 3:45. Frowning, I stumbled out of bed, slipping my feet into the slippers I'd left out of my trunk. I must have fallen asleep, I thought to myself wearily. The last thing I remember was thinking about Hogwarts.

As I stood up, I glanced around my room. It was neat and trim. The closet door was shut, the dressers almost bare with a few things stacked and set out. The bathroom door was closed, and the robe hung neatly on a plastic hook. My trunk was locked and pushed in a corner, and my jacket, clothing, and backpack were piled on top of it for tomorrow. Nothing was out of place but me. I felt strangely wrong in the setting.

As I pushed open the bedroom door to the hallway, I thought about everything that had happened today. After leaving the Ministry of Magic, we'd stopped by Worthwhile Wands, the Witches' Aid Society Aunt Kella worked at. She had to check up on the magical basket drive, a fundraiser they were putting on. Everything was on schedule, so we didn't stay long. In fact, the association had more donations than they expected, so they were about fifty baskets ahead of production protocol.

The basket drive was a fundraiser that Worthwhile Wands put on every year. They collected contributions from the magical community for families that couldn't afford the new school year. As we were leaving I decided to put something in the huge barrels outside. I quickly ran over to the store next door and purchased an expensive, blue velvet-lined wand case for quick, efficient travel. Happy with myself, I dropped it into a huge, metal barrel before racing to catch up with my aunt.

Next, we went to a large department store in London and got some new clothes for me. Those new clothes were now loaded in my trunk. They were to wear off school grounds and whenever else I could.

Lastly, we had stopped for a late lunch on Fortress Avenue and a dessert break at Florean Fortescue's, where I had ordered a butter pecan- fudge ripple sundae, strawberry frosty, and a vanilla icecream cookie. I was a big fan of junk food, and Fortescue's was a better place than any to indulge. As we sat in the icy air-conditioning, reclining in red vinyl booths, my aunt and I chatted about my junior high, mother and father, my friends, her work, and other trivial topics. We skirted the real issue and never got around to discussing what had happened at the Minister of Magic's office. I never told her about my pains or Cornelius Fudge's warning, and she'd never explained the le Fay and Merlin heirs, the prophecy, or what Harry Potter had to do with any of it. Or why I was involved, of all people.

Then we'd come home, I'd packed, we'd sat in comfortable silence at a good-bye dinner for me, and I'd gone to bed early, wanting to get a goodnight's sleep for the trip to Hogwarts. The tension had still been thick in the air as I kissed my aunt good-night and left the living room.

Now I slipped into the kitchen and flipped on the light switch near the door. Blinking my eyes blearily in the bright light, I shuffled over to the refrigerator. Opening it, I grabbed a water bottle from the door and leaned against the counter, closing my eyes.

I was so nervous about later today. I'd never attended a boarding school before. Yolanda's would have been my first, if I'd been accepted. At least then I would have been in the States. Now I was in some distant country, trapped in a web of secrets and deception, lies and legends.

Sighing, I capped the bottle and shoved it back in the fridge. I headed for the stairs and retreated to my room. Throwing myself on my bed, I wrapped the comforter tightly around me, pressing my fingers into my eyes, forcing them closed. Imaging awful, cliche scenes of fluffy sheep hopping over low fences, I breathed a sigh of relief. Too soon. The thought that had been nagging at the back of mind since before lunch pushed to the front, and I couldn't help contemplating it before I fell into a deep sleep.

What in the world had possessed me to miss just the right amount of questions on Yolanda's entrance exams to not make it in? Why, oh why, had I manipulated the school administration into believing I wasn't as smart as I actually was? Because if I hadn't done that, I wouldn't be here right now. Stuck in the middle of some insane prophecy that had to do with Harry Potter.

(*)

"Oh! You look simply lovely!" my aunt proclaimed as I gracefully strode down the front staircase. She'd whirled around when I cleared my throat at the top, and now she went back to rooting through her purse on the front table, shooting me sidelong glances.

I smiled happily, momentarily forgetting about everything that had been going on recently. Butterflies were flitting around in my stomach, and I pressed a hand to my belly in a vain attempt to calm my nerves. It didn't work.

This morning I'd gotten up extra-early to get ready. I'd taken careful time with my makeup and hair, a longer shower than normal, and used a relaxing kiwi facial scrub. When I'd gotten dressed, I'd spent extra time making sure what I was wearing was appropriate. I knew that I'd probably change on the train ride, but I wanted to make a good impression on my peers.

I was wearing an outfit I'd gotten the day before: a sheer, pale blue, knee-length skirt with two-inch lace fringe at the bottom, silky white tank top with a light blue flower bud centered at the top, and chunky white sandals with a wide, stretchy strap going across the top of my foot. The sides of my hair were pulled up and snapped back with a pearl clip, but I'd left out two tendrils that framed my face. My makeup was light and translucent: glittery blue eyeshadow, shiny pink lipgloss, one coat of light brown mascara, and a light-colored pressed powder.

If the other students didn't like how I looked today, I don't know if they ever would. Usually, I never took as much time to get ready as I had this morning.

I slipped into my leather coat and hooked my purse around my shoulder. Grabbing the handle of my trunk I started to pull it towards the door.

"Oh, no, you wait a minute," my aunt said, mocking a stern tone. I turned to her. She suddenly broke out in a smile. "I have to get pictures first!"

Groaning, I set my trunk down and moved to stand on the stairs again, shedding my jacket and tossing it on the banister. Aunt Kella giggled and grabbed her camera case, quickly unloading it and propping it on the table. She went to join me on the stairs.

Puzzled, I waited a second before asking, "Uh, Aunt Kella? How are you planning to take the picture?"

She giggled again, giddy and happy. I noted with pleasure that she was back to her usual, perky self.

"Oh, dear, don't worry. I've got it under control. Your Aunt Kella isn't that old," she quipped, pulling out her wand. I laughed and watched in amazement as she pointed her wand at the camera and said, "Catalepsious!"

The camera immediately rose and hovered in the air, its lense pointing in our direction.

I voiced my praise, but she shrugged it off. "Oh, it's nothing. I picked this up at Muggle's Charm."

"What's that?" I asked curiously.

"It's a small little shop, tucked away on Heinlein Street. The owner has a license to charm Muggle artifacts, and he sells them with an instruction card on how to use them properly. I absolutely love the store. I do a lot of my Christmas shopping there, and whenever I have some extra time I like to browse around," she explained.

"Where's Heinlein Street?" I asked. Muggle's Charm sounded like a place I'd like to visit sometime.

"Oh, not many people know about it. It's another wizarding street, not as big as Diagon Alley, of course, but efficient nonetheless. You can get to it by leaning up against the back wall of the Department of Muggle Interactions, a hidden wizarding building in downtown London. The street appears off to your left, down an alley," she informed me. I tucked the information away.

"When I say 'cheese', the shutter clicks," my aunt went on to explain. "Now get-" As she was saying it, there was a loud boing, and a burst of glitter dust, specked with shiny blue and neon pink stars exploded from the camera. The assortment of colorful ash floated down to the floor and disappeared. The camera, however, produced a picture that bobbed around in the air.

"Oh, my, I said 'cheese', didn't I?" she asked worriedly, a frown creasing her brow. When she realized what she'd done, she slapped her palm over her mouth. I, meanwhile, was laughing so hard I had to clutch my stomach.

The camera boinged again, and another picture shot out of the camera to hover next to the other one.

"Okay. Now let's be for real," my aunt said, calming down. She stepped closer to me and I wrapped my arm proudly around her shoulders. Smiling widely, we said 'cheese' at the same time.

After a few more pictures and a final goofy one, we took a look at them. The first two were funny. I was staring intently at my aunt, my brown creased, midnod. She had her mouth open knowledgeably, one index finger poised in the air. In the second picture, Aunt Kella's mouth was open in a circle, and her eyes were widened in shock. A blur at her side indicated the hand that was coming up to slap her mouth shut. I was bent over, laughing. My eyes were squeezed shut and my mouth was wide open. I looked like an idiot.

Blushing, I grabbed the second one. "I'll just take this-"

But my aunt yanked it out of my hand. "I don't think so, darling. These are both going in the photograph book."

"No, please," I pleaded, but she wouldn't back down. Firmly shaking her head no, she put the camera back in its case and we left the house, carefully locking the door behind us.

(*)

The ride to the train station was uneventful. Aunt Kella tuned into a teen wizarding station on the car radio, and I tried to convince her that the Weird Sisters and Potion were honest, hard-working bands who put their hearts and soul into their music. She snorted, unconvinced.

"The day those men and women actually try to sing is the day I buy their CD," she stated. "Now Celestina Warbeck, there's a singer."

"She's fifty-three years old!"

"Oh, that just makes her more experienced. She should teach those young hoodlums how to sing real music," Aunt Kella suggested, making a left.

"Oh, Aunt Kella. Don't be silly," I said, throwing up my hands. "She sings, like, Oldies, doesn't she?"

"Now Opal, come now, dear. They aren't called Oldies. They're called classics," Aunt Kella reached across the seat, her eyes still on the road, and patted my shoulder. "When you get older, you'll understand."

"I hope not," I said, and rifled through my backpack. Pulling out my CD case, which I'd grabbed from my trunk with my Discman and headphones this morning, I clicked it open. Biting the inside of my cheek, I flipped through the collection before extracting a CD from one of the clear pockets and slipping it into the CD player in the car.

Before my aunt could protest, music filled the cramped area. Over the guitar strumming, I asked my aunt, "What do you think of this group?"

It took her awhile before she answered, "What are they called?"

"Do you like them?"

"What are they called?"

"Do you like them?"

"What are they called?"

"Do you like them?"

"Yes!" she finally screeched, pounding the steering wheel in frustration. "Now answer me: what are they called?"

"The Dementors," I said, throwing her a smirk of triumph.

Aunt Kella groaned, but a small smile sprouted on her face. After we'd listened to the CD for a few songs, she reached out and turned it off. I started to protest, but she held up a hand. "No. Listen to me." I fell silent.

"Sweet, you have to know something before you go," she started. I waited for her to continue, and eventually she did. "I love you so very much."

My chin dropped to my chest, and I stared at my wringing hands. She continued, "You must understand: if anything happens this year, it's not my fault. If I start to change..." she trailed off quietly.

"Listen, Aunt Kella-" I started, but she cut me off again.

"Honey, I love you more than you can possibly know. There's a lot of stuff going on I'm sure you're wondering about. The questions will be answered... in the future... the near future..." she took a deep breath and the car went silent. Again, I stared at my squirming hands. The silver ring on my right index finger. The hangnail on my left thumb. The chipped polish on my pinkies. Aunt Kella spoke again, so quietly I could barely hear her. "Opal, there are things that you don't know that would scare you out of your mind. Unfortunately, I have something to do with a couple of those frightening things. You'll find out all about them soon enough, but please, please, please don't go sneaking around. Whatever you do, don't get in trouble this year. Be patient."

Finally, she let me talk. "Aunt Kella, I know, okay?" Noticing her stiffen, I quickly explained, "I don't know know, but I understand. I won't get in trouble, and I won't snoop. I have a feeling that I won't have enough time for that anyway."

She allowed herself a small smile, and the tension in the car eased.

Until we turned a corner and pulled into a bustling train station parking lot. "We're here!" Aunt Kella said cheerfully, switching off the ignition and getting out of the car. I didn't hop out so quickly, though.

The butterflies were back.

(*)

King's Cross Station. Here it is, I thought wearily to myself. The huge, modern building rose up mightily, surrounded by iron-cast platforms which were wide and regal in an old-fashioned way. Pressing my lips shut, I stared wordlessly at the crowd bustling around.

In the parking spot next to us, a car sputtered to a stop. I couldn't help but stare, even if it was rude. The vehicle looked like it had been the first one off Henry Ford's assembly line. It was colored a deep maroon, and the shady glass windows were thick and roughly cut. Glancing in the driver's window, I noticed the seats were covered with thick velvet.

Who drives a car like that anymore?, I asked myself silently. Though it was a rhetorical question, it was answered a second later when a huge pile of people began pouring out. Apparently, a gigantic family of red-headed, freckle-faces drove a car like that.

The family seemed to never stop coming. When they were all out and stretching towards the sky, happily commenting on the cramped ride and the weather, I counted seven. Seven! Wow, I thought, supressing a grin, that must be a lot of fun.

And I was serious. I had never wanted to be an only child. I had always wanted something like that: big, happy, fun. Instead, I was stuck with a rich snob mother, an overworked, strong and silent father, tired, angry nurses and maids, and a huge, lonely house.

"Opal! Come now! Let's get your luggage and be going!" Kella called from the rear of the car. She seemed not to notice the huge family.

I slid around her side of the car. "Aunt Kella, don't you sometimes wish for a family like that?" I asked my aunt. I tilted my head in the general direction of the red-heads.

Aunt Kella glanced at them. After turning away, her head spun back around. "Why, I've never seen so many..." her voice trailed off as she spotted the father, who was handling a long checklist of some sort. She colored slightly and ducked her head. "Opal, dearest, let's get your trunk and go... quick now..."

I grabbed my trunk from the rear of the car and hurried after my aunt, who was clicking away on the pavement, her heels tapping swiftly as she power-walked towards one of the platforms. "Aunt Kella," I gasped as I caught up. "What's wrong? Did you know someone? Were those people wizards?"

Aunt Kella glanced at me. She seemed to stiffen slightly, but suddenly loosened up. "Oh, honey. Don't worry yourself. Yes, that family was a wizarding one. I know the father though work... and we used to date, years and years ago. I assume his children attend Hogwarts now."

I raised her eyebrows. "I guess you don't want to talk about it?"

Aunt Kella laughed and punched me lightly. "No, silly, I don't. Besides, there's nothing to talk about. He's married now, and I'm not. It would just have been plain embarrassing if I'd bumped into him."

I nodded and casually rocked back and forth on my chunky shoes. "So. What do we do now?" I asked, lifting my hand off my trunk's handle and straightening my top.

Aunt Kella pursed her lips. "Well, the trip is paid for by the school, so we don't have to purchase a ticket. Now all we have to do is get to the proper platform, and you can board the train."

"Okay," I said, nodding my head slightly. "Which one is my platform?"

"That would be platform nine and three quarters," Aunt Kella answered. I glanced at her quizzically. How could the platform I was going to not be a whole number?

Suddenly, she smiled, as if answering my question. "Follow me. You'll see." She started to walk towards the right side of the station at a leisurely stroll, her hands tucked into the pockets of her elegant pantsuit. I smiled after her a second, admiring her fondly. Boy, I was glad to be living with my aunt. Maybe this year I could figure out who I really was, with her help.

As I pulled my trunk after me, I thought about my life. Whoever I was, I wasn't that rich brat from back in the States. I wasn't the snob that wished desperately to get into Yolanda's. And I wasn't my mother's daughter. My mother's daughter was a detached, cool, aloof prep with a sophisticated, trained walk who thought the world revolved around her. Sighing, I thought again of something that had dwelled on my mind since I was a small child: why, oh why, was I so different from my family? Not that I wanted to be like them, but why wasn't I? Sometimes it seemed I was adopted!

Smiling at the thought of actually being some gypsy woman's child who was dumped on my parents' doorstep as a baby, I hurried after my Aunt Kella. Now there was someone who could teach me a thing or two. She was clever and sharp, witty and cultured, but not stuck-up. She was caring and honest.

A second later, I caught up to Aunt Kella. She was waiting for me in front of the dividing barrier between platform nine and platform ten. She smiled sadly as I came up next to her.

"Okay, sweet. Right through there. Just head straight towards the wall right there- and you'll keep going onto platform nine and three quarters," she said to me, pointing one long, thin finger towards the railing.

I stared at her, puzzled. "Um, are you sure? Have you ever done it?"

She started to laugh. "Oh, honey, if you want, I'll go first. Trust me, I'm sure. Every decent wizard and witch in London knows how to get into Hogwarts, whether or not they go there. We're proud of our school!"

I stiffened. When I spoke, my voice was a slightly huffy. "Well, I'm sorry, but I don't live in London. I don't even know what Hogwarts looks like."

Aunt Kella stopped laughing abruptly. "You don't know what it looks like, honestly? Well, I'm sorry, dear! I assumed you would have learned about it in school last year. Ah, well, I'll let it be a surprise. Okay, okay. I'll go through the wall first. You just watch me. It'll happen fast, so keep your eyes peeled."

I nodded and watched as Aunt Kella walked slowly towards the railing. She leaned up against it casually, and a split second later, she was gone. I gasped and widened my eyes, a small smile playing over my lips. That had been so cool! I couldn't wait to try it.

Just as I was turning my cart around to face the wall (I'd snagged one as I was dragging my trunk after Aunt Kella), one of the red-heads that I'd spotted getting out of the car next to us went flying by me, feet perched on one of the bars of his cart and his hands clenched on the handle, standing up as if he were riding a bike without his feet on the pedals. At the last second, he placed one foot on the ground, skidded in a half circle, and rolled through the wall backwards, facing me. I caught his eye, and he smiled mischievously. His blue gaze twinkled with humor as he disappeared.

A smiled back at him, but it was too late. Who was that?, I found myself wondering. He seemed just like my friends back in the States: daring and reckless. A voice behind me answered my question.

"That George, always showing off for anyone," an older boy said. He seemed to be in his late teens, but much more uptight than George. Horn-rimmed glasses were perched on his nose, and his back was straight and rigid. His hands were clamped firmly on his cart's handle, and he looked steaming mad. "Mother, really," he insisted. "Couldn't you reprimand him?"

The mother, a short, plump, cheery woman, blew a sweaty strand of hair out her eyes. Eyes that were the same shade of blue as George's. "No, no, dear. I'm sure I can trust you to do that."

The older boy huffed, but reluctantly gave into a smile. "True, I'm sure. Sorry, Mother. Should have known." He leaned down to peck his mother on the cheek. Turning, he clasped his father's hand in a firm handshake. "Good bye, Mother, Father. Wish me luck."

His father smiled. "Oh, son, you don't need any. You were made for this job."

The son's chest swelled with pride, and his face flushed with pleasure. "Thank you. I am looking forward to it."

"Oh, Percy, just get on with it," a girl about a year younger than me pleaded, rolling her eyes. "We need to hurry. The train leaves at 11:00, and it's 10:51 already."

Hearing those words, I snapped out of my eavesdropping mode and strode casually towards the wall. Stopping, I pretended to adjust my silver bracelets while keeping my hands loosely clasped on the handle. Leaning backwards, I felt myself falling.

Stumbling onto another platform, I glanced around, humiliated. That had been embarrassing! I'd fogotten there wouldn't be anything to support any of my weight on the other side. Fortunately, no one had seen my clumsiness.

I pushed the cart towards the scarlet train carriages, and Aunt Kella made her way towards me through the thick crowd. She smiled. "Good job, honey! Have a nice trip, by the way?"

I laughed. "Funny, funny."

The smile dropped from her face. "Oh, dear, I'll miss you ever so much." She leaned forward to wrap me in a giant hug.

I hugged back, my head on her shoulder. Closing my eyes, I thought about the great times we'd had in the past couple of days. Yes, some of it had been scary. But for the most part, it had been like Aunt Kella was a real part of the family. I'd miss her, too.

"Oh, Aunt Kella. I'm so scared. And nervous. What if I can't make any friends?"

She smiled, blinking her eyes rapidly as she pulled back to look at me, her hands still firmly holding my bare shoulders. "You not make any friends? Don't worry, darling. You've got nothing to worry about."

I nodded, pressing my lips together. "So this is it."

She stood there silently.

"Good-bye, Aunt Kella," I murmured, hugging her again lightly. She seemed so sad. Like this was the very last time I'd ever see her. "Don't worry," I reassured her. "You can come to visit me at school. And I'll try to come home for Halloween. We'll see each other all the time."

She seemed to collapse, her whole body sagging downward. Her mouth quivered as if she were about to cry. Sure enough, her eyes were welling up with tears. She quickly pulled a tissue out of her pocket and patted her eyes gently. Next, out came her wand.

"Dear, I'm going to put a special bond on you. A bond isn't a curse, but it's not a charm or a spell either. It's very rare and special, and it locks a certain moment or fact or memory to the person that the bond is performed on. It only works under certain circumstances, and I'm sure this is a special circumstance." Her voice was firm and confident now. She was back to her old self.

"Remember Aunt Kella,

The way she is now.

She will always love you.

That is her vow."

"Oh, Aunt Kella!" I cried, tears leaking out of the corners of my eyes. "You have nothing to worry about! I love you, too!"

We hugged for a long time, and I pulled away so as not to start crying again. After saying good-bye a final time, I climbed aboard the train, pulling my trunk up after me.

Standing at the door as the other students boarded, I started down at my aunt. She stared back at me. I stood there until the giant steam engine let out a high-pitched whistle, and a man came by, slamming the door shut.

"Move on, move on," he told me kindly. "We need everyone to find a compartment as soon as possible. It's always so hectic." I nodded silently, biting my lip to hold back tears.

I'd never felt so alone in my entire life.


	7. The Surprise

The Surprise

The Surprise

I moved slowly down the tight hallway. It was a good thing I wasn't claustrophobic. If I had been, I wouldn't have even been able to move, the space was so small.

Peering into some of the compartments, I noticed with a frown that all of them were full. The hallway was empty, save me, and laughter and noisy chatter emitted from every open and closed doorway I passed. I caught snipets of conversation as I moved down the winding corridor.

"Jolly good time over the summer, Lee, how 'bout you?"

"I say, a bit 'o help here, lifting this trunk--"

"Blimey! That's spiffing, George!"

I stopped suddenly. Did I just here someone say George?, I asked myself. Maybe that was the guy who'd flown past me on the cart earlier! Heart thumping, I knocked lightly on the their compartment door.

The door whooshed open quickly, and a tall, well-built, African American boy leaned out into the hall eagerly. "Treats already?" he asked, glancing up and down the hall.

I glanced past him into the car, half a smile playing over my lips. I noticed that all the occupants seemed slightly older than me. Inside were two girls and three boys. One of the boys was the handsome African American who'd opened the door. The other two were twins, and one was obviously George. I just couldn't tell which.

"No, no treats, sorry," I said apologetically, focusing on the boy still standing in front of me.

"Ah, well. They'll come eventually. I've been craving pumpkin tarts all summer," he said, his brow wrinkled in disappointment. I laughed slightly.

"Well, then," called one of the twins from inside the compartment. His blue eyes twinkled, and he smiled widely at me. "Come on in! The more the merrier, I say!"

The other twin cocked his head and feigned puzzlement. "Eh, George, really? I've never heard you say that in my life!"

One of the girls, a tall, thin African American, groaned and rolled her huge, deep brown eyes. "Ah, Fred. You always did think you were so very funny!"

He grinned at her, leaning down to peck her on the cheek. "You know you think I'm a riot, Angelina!" The girl fought to keep a frown on her face, but a rosy pink blush crept into her cheeks. She ducked her head to hide a small smile.

The boy that had opened the door chuckled and pulled me farther into the room, gently taking my trunk away from me and heaved it onto the storage rack above the seats. The boy introduced himself to me. "Hullo, then. I'm Lee Jordan, and the girls are Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet. And, da-dum, the two red-heads are the infamous Fred and George Weasley."

I smiled politely at all of them. The group nodded pleasantly, smiling warmly back, mumuring "hullo".

Fred threw his arm around Angelina and leaned back as Lee and I settled onto the benches. I sat down next to George and shot him a quick smile. "And, Great Scott, who pray-tell are you?" Fred asked.

I smiled and crossed my ankles, resting my hands in my lap. I was getting more and more relaxed every second. This seemed like a fun group. "I am Opal Harris, a transfer student from the United States. My mother set up the move, with the help of my aunt. Apparently, they know the Headmaster at Hogwarts?"

"Yeah, Dumbledore. He's a grand guy. Bit off his rocker, but fabulous, nonetheless," Lee said wisely, nodding. "So, do you know what house you'll be in?"

"House?" I questioned. Then I remembered Cornelius Fudge's assurance. "Oh. No, I don't, but I'm sure I'll be placed in whichever one has an opening."

George spoke for the first time. "Nothing happened to any of the students over the summer, did it?" He directed his question at me, training his eyes on mine.

I blinked first. Slowly shaking my head, I answered, "No, I don't think so. Maybe Professor Dumbledore just... let me in. Apparently, Cornelius thinks it's odd, but he also believes Professor Dumbledore knows what he's doing."

I glanced over at Angelina and Fred, sitting across from me. Their mouths were gaping open. Glancing around, I noticed that Alicia's, Lee's, and George's were all like that too. Puzzled, I asked, "What? What's wrong?"

Alicia snapped her mouth closed. Tugging at her long, dark brown hair, she narrowed her steel gray eyes. "How do you know the Minister of Magic? He's a really important figure, being who he is and all. Does your aunt live here? Is she a Ministry worker?"

I waved the questions away. "Oh, yes and no. She does live here, but she works at a Witches' Aid Society. Aunt Kella and Cornelius Fudge are friends from way back. They used to be penpals."

Everyone nodded and a chorus of "oh's" rang out. George, grinning, leaned closer to me. "So, are you interested in pranks, Opal Harris?"

I smiled back at him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lee shoot Fred a smirk. Fred nodded and grinned. My heart thumped slightly faster. "Yes, as a matter of fact I am. My friends back in the States and I were the troublemakers at our school. Jen and I were constantly setting fires to potions and stuff."

To my surprise, Fred gulped and went slightly pale. "Um, I'm not so sure you want to do that here."

I smirked, tilting my head. "I gather you aren't a troublemaker?"

This comment was apparently very funny, because the group roared with laughter. After they'd calmed down, George explained. "No, no, trust me, that's not it. George and I are possibly the worst troublemakers Hogwarts has ever seen. We know all the secrets and passageways in the school, probably more than the teachers. What Fred meant is the Potions teacher is not a person you want to mess with."

"Why?" I asked curiously.

"Alicia smiled, giggling a little. "He's awful! There's really no better way to describe him. Everyone hates him, and he hates all the students. He favors his house, and is always trying to get everyone in trouble."

I shook my head slightly. "Don't worry about me. I always get on every teacher's good side right off the bat. Besides being a troublemaker, I'm kind of a bookworm." Blushing lightly at the confession, I smiled. "Top grades, best assignments, stuff like that."

Everyone in the car exchanged glances. George cleared his throat. "Um, Opal, you may still want to watch yourself around the Potions teacher. He doesn't let students suck-up to him. Oh, and about the bookworm thing. You may have a little competition."

"Why?" I asked again, gulping. Maybe this school was harder than I thought. Maybe it was some achievement school were all the good little kids went and studied every night to get the highest grades. I would be sent home the first night if that's the way things worked.

George went on to explain, and I let out a breath of relief. "Well, see, one of my younger brother's best friends is sort of the Bookworm of the Year, if you know what I mean. Well, she studies constantly and is such a bugger about exam study schedules we all get kind of sick of it." He hesitated, but then continued. "Nah, you have nothing to worry about. She's only fourteen. You'll be the top of our class, then, how about that?"

Everyone smiled and cheered, and I forced a weak grin. Even though I knew I should, I couldn't manage to tell them that I was fourteen, too. If they thought I was older, what was the problem? When the group found out later, we'd all have a good laugh about it and go back to hanging out.

"So, Opal, what do you like to do?" Lee asked casually.

I shrugged. "Besides the usual teenage girl hobbies? Let's see... well, I love writing, and when it comes to poetry I'm pretty dramatic. Then again, I'm pretty dramatic when it comes to a lot of things. I love to act. One of my favorite past-times is photography. And sleeping."

We all laughed, and pretty soon, the easy conversation relaxed me. What did it matter that I was younger than these kids? We obviously had a lot in common, and I seemed to fit in well. As I listened to Alicia describing her antics with her mother when they went shopping for the new term, I studied the students solemnly.

One thing that I had left off my list of hobbies was studying people. I did it all the time. All you had to do was let the din of conversation, laughter, and activity fade into a gentle background noise. Then you were free to carefully observe the people around you. The trick was not letting them know that you were observing them. By becoming relatively invisible, you could notice a lot of things about people that others wouldn't normally catch.

Lee was very relaxed. Leaning back, long legs stretched out in front of him, he looked like he didn't have a care in the world. His hair was parted into chunky dreadlocks that fell to his shoulderblades, and he had active, light brown eyes that danced with brightness. He loved to laugh, and his sly, teasing jokes and lazy grins matched him perfectly with Fred and George as best friends. But something else lurked in his eyes. A sort of sadness, or exhaustion. Like he had a secret of some sort.

Fred, of course, looked just like his brother, with bright blue, twinkling eyes and thick, soft, orange-red hair. They wore it differently, however. Fred's was neatly trimmed and stuck up in tiny spikes at the front. George gelled his hair all over the top in crazy, unique spikes that sprang haphazardly from his scalp.

I found myself smiling softly, and quickly went back to comparing and contrasting the teenagers.

Fred's personality was also very different from George's. Though both the twins were reckless and obviously daring, fun-loving, and hilarious, Fred was slightly less mature. His humor was more obvious and lightly teasing. He seemed pretty smart, but only in a school way. And he was really obsessed with Angelina. I kept catching him glancing at her, smiling slightly.

George was street smart, as well as book smart. He was a little bit more serious, thoughtful, and mature. His smile was slightly sardonic, and his humor was sarcastic, sometimes cynical, and often critizing. Of course, he was always apologizing ("Just joking, Angelina, of course your aunt doesn't look like a horse! First thing that popped out of my mouth, sorry!"), but his eyes were deeper and more mysterious than the rest of them.

The twins' tans were even and golden bronze. Light sprinklings of freckles dotted their skin, adding a slight boyish look. Their noses were small and thick in front, their ears tiny and rounded, and their smiles wide, honest, and warm. Straight, white teeth glinted nicely under the flourescent train lights. Both were very good-looking, and extremely kind. I was immediately positive the twins were very well-liked.

Angelina was preppy and robust. Tall and thin, her light brown skin shimmered like coffee with cream, and her long hair, braided into dozens of tiny braids falling down her back, looked thick and soft. She had petite features, except for her eyes, which were huge, round, and open. She spoke very sincerely and honestly, concentrating on everything she was saying with an almost child-like enthusiusm. She was wearing black leather pants, bright red, chunky boots, a black sleeveless shirt with thick straps, a low, square-cut front, and a picture of a red heart on it, and several red bangles on her wrists. Long, glittery red nails and a beaded red and black choker completed the outfit. What her outfit said was obvious: she was unique; crazy; a free spirit.

Alicia was harder to figure out. Her outfit was slightly more conservative. She wore a long, black stretchy skirt, low, chunky black boots, a dark red, ribbed, long-sleeved top, and a silver-link chain watch. Her fingernails weren't glittery, or even painted at all; they were long, elegant, nicely-rounded, and natural. She kept swinging her long, glossy dark hair whenever she talked to Fred, and she giggled and glanced at him a lot more than she did with anyone else. That sent a shudder through me. How could that girl flirt so obviously her friend's boyfriend? Other than that, Alicia seemed pretty nice. She was very generous and modest. On the outside. Who knew what steamed on the inside? Alicia's steely gray eyes, closed off and carefully guarded, were constantly flitting from one person to another. Her small, deep red, Cupid-bow's mouth quickly formed into conniving smiles, but then it would immediately melt into a sweet grin. Yes, Alicia was a character. But also a very interesting subject. I would have to keep my eye on her.

"...so, Opal, what's your standing on the wizarding controversy on Muggle knowledge?" George asked me seriously, his brow furrowed and his eyes intensely locked on mine.

My mouth dropped open and I stiffened slightly. Glancing around, I quickly realized everyone was staring at me, waiting for me to contribute to the obviously serious subject of the conversation. Gulping, thoughts raced through my head. Had I really been caught in the act, by everyone?

"Um... well, I'd- uh- have to say that we should keep things the way they are. If the Muggles don't know much, why let on something we don't have to?" I jabbered, words falling out of my mouth clumsily. Apparently that was the right answer, because George clapped me on the back, pitching me forward.

Grinning broadly, he exclaimed, "Eh, what did I say, Fred? Didn't I tell you she had a sharp tongue, old boy? From the practiced lips of the pro's!"

Angelina clicked her tongue, shaking her head back and forth. Her eyes widened in sympathy, and she curled up closer to Fred. "I'm sorry, Opal, George is a bit of a tease. We weren't talking about that- he was just trying to trip you up by catching you not listening."

Lee grinned easily. "Well, see, you must have passed. I couldn't have come up with that answer if I'd been tuned in." Everyone chuckled easily, and I grinned appreciatively, lucky it had been a joke.

Alicia rolled her eyes. "Say, who would talk about something like that? Your dad, Fred?" she asked, leaning over Angelina to glance at Fred. He moved his head back an inch.

"Nah," he said, shaking his head back and forth, glancing at George for refirmation.

George jumped in. "Dad talks about bewitching kettles and cars and stuff like that," he explained, shrugging his shoulders and smiling. "I don't know why he's so interested in the subject. I guess it is kind of funny, watching those Muggles scurrying around. Left to their own devices, they're pretty smart."

"What do you mean 'left to their own devices'?" I asked curiously.

Alicia explained. "Apparently, George has this theory that the Ministry of Magic is involved with an experiment with the Muggles in rural London." Everyone smiled behind their hands, and George blushed a furious shade of pink.

"You make it sound like it's the most far-fetched idea in the world!" he cried angrily. He sat up straighter and pivoted around to face me. He opened his mouth, probably to describe his theory in great detail, but the sudden sliding of the compartment door interrupted him.

A tall, gangly red-head slid in, followed quickly by a slim girl and a scrawny boy. The red-head grinned uneasily in the sudden silence, all eyes focused on him. "Hey, George, Fred, can I have a word, all right?"

George pulled himself up easily and Fred untangled himself from Angelina's arms. "Sure, bro, what is it?" they said in unison, sidling over to the trio that stood in the doorway.

"Eh, nothing much, just got a question about some stuff I mighta left behind at home-" the boy quickly stopped in mid-sentence, glancing at me. "What's wrong with your friend, guys?"

They glanced around the compartment, and George's eyes finally came to rest on me. He leaned down to look me in the eye. "Oi, Opal? What's wrong?"

I was staring, open-mouthed at George's brother's friend. It was Harry Potter.

(*)

I'd gone pale. My hands shook where they were clasped in my lap, and my heart thumped painfully at the sight of him. What with getting to know everyone... George and Fred and Lee and the girls... and talking about school and hobbies... Harry Potter had completely slipped my mind. It was like suddenly waking up from a great dream and realizing you had to face a test first hour.

Harry, on the other hand, didn't look annoyed or frightened. In fact, he didn't look disturbed in any way. Though shock was written all over his face, he seemed happy. "Opal, isn't it? Opal le Fay, if I'm not mistaken?" he asked, smiling.

I gulped and shook my head. "No. Opal Harris."

"Oh, right, you live with your aunt," Harry realized, nodding, his hands stuck in his pockets. "Oh, wow! I had no clue you were a witch! That's so awesome. Now I have someone living next door I can relate to. I won't have to stay locked up with the Dursley's for the whole summer." Harry rolled his eyes. I almost laughed, but then remembered I wasn't supposed to know about how bad Vernon and Petunia were.

I squinted. "So you know Fred and George?" I asked curiously. Though I was reluctant to find out how he knew my two new friends, I had to get it out in the open before I accidentally let something slip.

Fred interrupted. "I say, do you two know each other?" he asked Harry and me, his eyes darting back and forth between the two of us.

Harry grinned brightly. "Yeah, she's living with my next door neighbor, and I never knew it! I even met her yesterday, and I never suspected a thing." He squinted at me. "Well, I thought I knew you from somewhere. Do you remember me saying that? I still think I recognize you..."

George laughed. "C'mon on in then. We'll throw a small party. I believe the treats cart is coming around for the second time, isn't it?" He leaned past me to glance into the corridor, and, sure enough, a plump witch was pushing a tray along the narrow hallway, stopping at various compartment doorways to exchange Knuts and Sickles for candy and food and tossing the change into a tin.

Harry was still looking at me. "How do you know Fred and George?" he asked suspiciously, his eyes narrowing in thought behind the glass.

"Oh, this was the first compartment I tried to see if they had room for one more person," I explained, embarrassed because of the real reason I'd come into this room. "It was worth it, too. I've already made five new friends."

"Well, now you have three more," the red-headed boy quipped from behind Harry, smiling at me again. I smiled back. Everyone seemed so friendly.

Angelina stood up to give the younger red-headed boy a huge hug. The tips of his ears turned slightly pink. "Oh, Ron! It's so great to see you!" Then she turned to Harry and the girl that had walked in with them. "Any you, too, Harry, Hermione." She enveloped both of them in brief hugs before returning to her seat. Fred plopped down next to her, and everyone quickly settled down.

As the cart rattled past the compartment door, Lee jumped up. "I'll go buy some stuff!" he cried happily, hurrying out the now open door.

"That guy is so happy, all the time," George said cheerfully, grinning after his friend.

Alicia narrowed her eyes. "Not really..." she murmured under her breath, but no one heard her. Except me. I wanted to question her about that, but the conversation was quickly moving onto a different subject.

"So, Hermione, do any studying over the summer? Planning on becoming a prefect a year early, are you?" George asked, trying to keep a straight face as Hermione described her detailed course studies.

Hermione apparently thought he was serious. "Why, that's a great idea! I wonder if Professor Dumbledore's ever allowed that before?" she asked seriously. Noticing George's lack of attention, she turned to Ron to continue her interrogation.

George caught Opal's eye and winked. They both stifled laughs behind their hands.

"I'm back!" Lee crowed above the wild chatter. Everyone cheered and dived on the food that Lee had dumped in the extra seat. Someone tossed Opal a cream-filled candy, and she ripped open the package, biting into the soft carmel as she laughed at Fred's imitation of his older brother ("Oy, Mum! Look at me, Mum! I've got the substitute position for the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, Mum! Aren't you proud of me, Mum!...")

This isn't so bad, thought Opal. Harry's not as freaky as I thought he would be. And his friends seem pretty nice and very friendly. Yes, it had been a surprise to find out that Ron was not only Fred and George's younger brother but also Harry Potter's best friend. Still, it seemed to be a surprise that was working out for the better.


	8. Hogwarts and Hufflepuff

Hogwarts and Hufflepuff

Hogwarts and Hufflepuff

"There it is! I see it!" Ron shouted. I hurried over to join him next to the window and stared out the pane, which was smeared with dreary rain. The sky, overcast, blocked my view from my new school.

"Are you sure?" I asked, squinting up at the huge hill where a thicket of trees obscured my vision. "I don't see it; those trees are in my way."

Ron frowned. "I know I saw it. We must be entering Hogsmeade now."

"Hogsmeade?" I asked, frowning. Now what was that?

Harry sidled over to me. He grinned at my confusion. "Hogsmeade is the nearest wizarding village with a train station. It's quite close to the school actually. When we leave the train, we'll get on carriages that will take us up to Hogwarts."

Hermione jumped in. "Did you know that Hogsmeade is the only completely wizarding community in Britain? And history is abundant; Victor Row is said to be the street Winston the Wise lived on in 1736, the year that the International Confederation of Warlocks-"

"That's great, Hermione," Ron interrupted. "But Opal probably doesn't want the detailed recount of everything that's ever happened in Hogsmeade; she'll want to know about the shops!" At this, he turned to me, his brown eyes lighting up. "You'll never believe the stores they have there- you'll love it, I swear- they've got a gigantic candy store and the best joke shop and an awesome restuarant-"

I laughed happily as Hermione and Ron competed for my attention to tell me how great Hogsmeade was. I'd gone with Harry, Hermione, and Ron to be introduced to everyone on the train; then I gone back with them to their compartment, the very last one in the back, telling George I'd meet up with them later.

"So, Opal, what year are you going to be in? You never told us," Harry asked.

I blushed and took a deep breath. Glancing at them, I said softly, "My fourth year."

"All right!" Ron cheered. "That's what year we're all in."

Hermione smiled. "I thought you were going to be in your sixth year. That's what year George, Fred, Alicia, and Lee are in. Angelina's in her seventh."

My stomach dropped. Positive now that the group I'd previously met would shun me since I was so young, I sighed deeply and fell into a seat. Harry looked concerned. "What's wrong?" he asked, sitting down next to me.

I half-smiled. "I'm just worried all the others will be upset because I'm so young. I became really good friends with them, and..." I trailed off, staring into space as the train came to a grinding halt.

Harry stood up, sticking out his hand to help me. "Well," he said with a shrug. "I guess we'll see. But Ron's brothers and his friends don't seem like the type-" he stopped talking when I grabbed his hand for him to pull me up.

Frankly, I would have stopped talking, too. As it was, I could hardly breath. My hand was burning- it was on fire- my skin felt like it was melting with pain-

"Ahh!" I moaned loudly, wrenching free of Harry's grasp. He was groaning, too, clutching his wrist and staring at his palm, where a huge red blister was quickly disappearing. I glanced down at my own hand, where a blister just like his was shrinking. When I looked up, Harry was staring at me, a mixture of fright and fasination on his face.

"Who are you?" he whispered hoarsely. Glancing behind him, he pulled the sliding door to the compartment shut. Ron and Hermione had already left, leaving their trunks behind to be magically transported up to Hogwarts.

"I was just thinking the same thing about you," I retored, sitting slowly. My knees felt like they were going to give out any second. "That- was impossible- how could our skin react so violently to each other?"

Harry had gotten a faraway look in his eye, like he was in deep thought. I sat there quietly, waiting for him to snap out of his reverie. Finally, he said, slightly reluctantly, "Well, something happened like that to me before, but-"

He was cut off by George Weasley. The red-head leaned into our compartment, smiling gamely. "C'mon, you two! Let's go, the rest of the students have cleared off- there, that's it, grab your bags, but leave your trunks-" With that, he led us off the train and into the pouring rain.

The carraiges had already started to leave. Harry and I quickly climbed into Ron and Hermione's, which had stayed behind to wait for us. When we'd climbed in and settled down onto the damp velvet seats, Hermione asked, "What took you two so long?"

I gulped as Harry fidgeted uncomfortably. "Er, one of the straps on Opal's bookbag broke, and we had to pick up all the stuff and repair it." I nodded vigoriously in agreement. Ron and Hermione shrugged, and I elbowed Harry in the ribs.

Giving him a warning look with my eyes, I muttered, "We have to talk." He nodded, his eyes wide, and put a finger to his mouth, glancing at Hermione and Ron, who were deep in an argument about something Ron had said.

Licking my lips, I smoothed down the front of my robes. I'd changed on the train right before Harry, Ron, and Hermione had taken me around to introduce me to everyone. Pulling a small mirror out of my bookbag, I groaned. I was a mess. My hair was wet and hung in soggy chunks around my face, and my face itself was pale and drained of color. I slipped the mirror quietly back into my bookbag. Glancing at Harry, I caught him eyeing me, chewing on his bottom lip in though. I turned to the window.

The scenery was extraordinary. The path the carriages were taking up the hill was packed dirt. The road was lined with small goblins holding torches. When I made eye contact with one of the rounded, dumpling creatures, he smiled and waved, bobbing his head, which was covered in a plumed purple hat, and kicking up his tiny legs. The trees alongside the road teemed with life. Birds of all different colors and sizes called out to each other and insects buzzed noisily. It sounded like an exotic forest. I saw one bird which made me smile. It looked just liked Kenny's from back in the States. It had three feathers, one each of the primary colors, sticking out from it's forehead and a bright blue plummage. It's tail feathers were the same color as it's beak: a bright, violent, orange. I smiled, remembering Kenny.

When we broke through a patch in the trees, I caught my first glimpse of the school. My breath snagged in my throat as I stared, wide-eyed, at the huge, towering castle that rose mightily from the top of the hill. A silent crack of lightning illuminated it from behind, and my eyes feasted hungrily over the huge stone building. Hundreds of windows glinted with a warm, yellow light, casting squares of gold on the ground below. There were many entrances; some blocked off with thick gates, others tiny and out of place. Towers rose off the sides, and one with scarlet shingles stood out in particular. A banner flapped in the window from one of the windows.

"Nice, isn't it?" Ron's voice said suddenly, making me jump. "Yeah, that tower's Gryffindor. The best one in the school, if you ask me." His chest swelled with proud. "That's the house all three of us are in."

I let out a long breath, my eyes still wide as I admired the view. There was so much to look at! A deep green lawn, thick and luxerious, stretched downward towards the patch of woods we'd broken through. On the other side of the woods, a huge lake, glinting like silver liquid in the moonlight, shimmered and reflected the moon. A low, swirling fog writhed and twisted a few feet above it. Off to the side of the castle (way, way off to the side) hunched a forbidding and dangerous-looking forest. It looked off limits because of it's distance from the wide lawn that stretched out in between it and the castle. As the carraiges pulled up behind the castle, coming to a stop on a soft brick, cobblestone turn-around with a fountain in the middle, I got to see the back view. It was identical to the front, except instead of the lake, a garden-courtyard twisted away and out of site, all kinds of flowers blooming out of the sides. Paths stretched throughout this maze of nature like ribbons. And in the place of the patch of woods we'd burst free of stood a small, warm-looking hut.

Harry caught me admiring the nice house, which seemed to radiate life and joy. "That's Hagrid's hut. He's the gamekeeper here at Hogwarts," here he rolled his eyes. "You'll meet him later. Right now he's leading the first years across the lake in boats. From Hogsmeade." I admired the hut a second later before turning back to the large group of people facing the side of the castle.

Suddenly, a stern face woman appeared out of the middle of nowhere. She was tall and stick thin. She stood romrad straight and her bony shoulders were pointed through the thin, cheap black robe she wore. A wind ruffled the fabric and it made snapping sounds as it flapped around her legs. This woman's hair, a deep, even gray, was pulled into a tight, small bun on the top of her head. Perched on the tips of her nose were wire-rimmed, steel glasses, square and compact.

Severe blue eyes; gun metal eyes; icy, rigid, narrowed eyes stared into each and every one of us as we stood silent. Only the sound of the howling wind, which has started up when she popped into sight, could be heard whining and whipping around us.

Suddenly, this harsh woman broke into a smile. It didn't exactly reach her eyes; nor did it fit well with the sharp lines and pointy edges of her countenance. But this fluid expression, which glided onto her lips easily, immediately put me to rest. She obviously wasn't a bad guy if she smiled at us.

"Professor McGonagall! Professor McGonagall!" Hermione jumped up and down frantically, waving her hands above the crowd, trying to get the woman's attention. Professor McGonagall noticed the commotion in the back of the group and smiled wider at Hermione.

"Ah, Miss Granger!" she said as she neared Hermione, Harry, Ron, and me, standing around in the cold rain, shivering and craddling our bookbags and coats. "It is ever so good to see you." Her eyes roamed over Ron and Harry, and she seemed not to notice me. "All three of you."

Harry glanced at me and cleared his throat. "Um, Professor, we have a new student who doesn't know what house she's in. Opal Harris, her name is, Professor. She's a fourth year, just like us."

I turned to Professor McGonagall, a ready smile on my face and my hand, damp and slimy with the rain, outstretched for her to shake. The strict teacher spun around gracefully, a thin tendril of gray hair escaping her bun. The smile slid off her face as she stared at me in shocked horror.

I withdrew my hand, replacing my friendly grin with a look of confusion. "Excuse me, Professor? Is something wrong? Am I... in the wrong place, or something?"

Professor McGonagall drew in a shaky breath, regaining her composure, her mouth in a tense, thin-lipped frown again. She ran her hand down her robes and tucked the loose strand of hair behind her ear. "No, no, nothing's wrong. I'm sorry, dear, you just reminded me of someone. And I thought I recognized the name... but no, of course not, you can't be her."

She turned back to the large group of students who stood, shivering, talking animatedly amongst themselves, getting reaquainted with old friends. She clapped her bony hands twice. Everyone quickly stopped talking and swiveled to face her. I was impressed with the way she handled things so quickly. This was obviously a stern teacher who knew how to control her students. She opened her mouth, and I, too, tuned out the wind to listen in rapt attention. "You, my students, are my entire fourth year. And I, as many of you already know-" she shot me a quick look- "am the Head of the House of Gryffindor, as well as the Transfiguration teacher, the Headmistress, and the Fourth Year Councilor."

A buzz of excited chatter and whispers flew around the group. Ron leaned in to tell me what was going on, but Professor McGonagall clapped her hands once more and the group stopped talking. She said, "Yes, this is the year that your class will have a councilor. At our school, that refers to the teacher that helps you plan for your O.W.Ls next year and constructs a guided path for your future career, if you choose to take it. Each house will be talking more about it at their own in-depth seminar, held in the Hogsmeade Town Hall. Students who do not have a legal guardian's permission should talk to me as soon as possible."

She clapped her hands again. "Now, there are still a few messages that need to be announced, but I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will take care of those at the Feast. If you will stay with the people of your house, please follow me." She briskly slipped through the crowd and snapped her fingers. A large golden key appeared in her hand and she pushed it into the rusted lock dangling from the heavy gray door.

I grasped onto Ron's upper arm as he begin to move away from me. He nodded at me and pulled me through the crowd, apparently following Hermione and Harry in their pursuit for the people of their house. We stumbled upon a small group of teenagers, about ten, that looked about the same age as us.

Harry smiled at all of them as the wind mused his hair, pushing the thick black locks in every direction. He glanced at me, and I blushed, looking away. For him to catch me staring at him... he might think something of it. Obviously, he'd already come to some sort of conclusion about me. What had Harry said on the train? "Something like this had happened to me before..." I didn't even want to think about what it could mean. If I'd learned one thing in the wizarding world, I'd learned that there are too many possibilities to imagine.

Hermione introduced me to everyone in her dorm. The five girls all shared a circular room and attended classes together along with the five boys in the fourth year of Gryffindor. "Oh, okay, so this school is sort of like teaming?" I asked, nodding to verify the assumption.

A girl named Lavendar flipped her long, blonde hair over her shoulder and smirked. She was a clear as glass to read; a rich British snob who thought she could get anything and everything she wanted from her Mummy and Daddy's pocket. "Whatever that is... some sort of States thing, I suppose," she trailed off uninterested, studying her nails.

"Actually," I explained. "it is. See, at some schools, the classes and kids are divided into groups, randomly picked from a computer. These classrooms are all in the same basic area so the kids won't get lost and the students have basically the same classes together. This way, the students get to know each other better. And the teachers get to know the kids, also, on a deeper level. It works the same for witching and wizarding schools as it does public schools."

Hermione seemed very interested in this tidbit of culture, but just then the line started moving into the castle and the topic of the conversation switched gears. Ron rubbed his stomach and stated loudly, "I bloody don't care what we're having; I'm starved!"

Harry laughed and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I don't get fed to well at the Dursley's."

"You don't?" I blurted out without thinking. I couldn't help myself. A part of me had to know how he couldn't get much to eat in a family like that. Especially with the dinner that I'd witnessed.

The green-eyed boy raised his eyebrows at me. "Nooo...." he said, long and drawn out, shoving his hands into the pockets of his robes. "Why?"

I shrugged, slipping into my jacket as we entered the freezing room. "I don't know. It's just, well, uh, a lot of teenagers eat tons of food, and, well, you look like you need some more of it, and..." I stuttered off, ducking my head down in a cascade of blonde hair to hide my bright pink face.

"I know exactly what you mean," Harry agreed, much to my surprise. I snapped my head up. He was smiling at me kindly, patting his stomach. "I do look half-starved, don't I? Well, it's not my fault. No matter how much I eat, I stay skinny as a string bean."

Ron and Hermione laughed as we moved from the large subterranian garage area we'd entered up a set of narrow steps into a huge hall. It was warm and snug in here, and I gazed at the ceiling, walls, doors, and grand staircase in awe. Happy, chattering voices emitted from behind the two biggest double doors, which were off to the right of the hall. The doors were a deep mahogany, with large golden doorknobs and intricately designed and hand-carved patterns lavishly decorating it's surface. As for the other surfaces of the room, the walls were a rich, velvety brown with dark brown knots in them. I ran my hand over the smooth, glassy, well-oiled teak wood.

"This," Hermione whispered in my ear, spreading her arms out wide, a smile of enchantment written all over her face, "is the entrance hall."

"Home to me," Harry added in a low voice as they waited patiently for me to absorb all of it.

Richly painted and hand-knitted tapestries lined the wall, so tall and so wide they seemed as big as slabs of parking lot, though quite more beautiful. Instead of the dull gray, the colors were deep and bright: velvety maroons, cold silvers, creamy whites, sparkly navys, and glowing greens. And in place of the gritty gravel parking lots often used, the texture and feel of the hanging rugs were extremely warm and unbelievably soft, with thick gold tassles lining the bottoms. I wished I could run my hands over each and every one of them, but I knew that could take hours.

I stared down at the floor, which was an ivory-and-gold tile inlay with a slick embossed surface. Suits of armor stood in corners and lined the wall, gleaming and shiny for the start of the new school term. Small tables and coat racks of all sort were artfully arranged so that they provided elegant eye candy.

And the grand staircase. Grand was an understatement. It rose in front of me, wide enough for about twenty people to walk up at it at the same time. The steps, which were covered in a red velvet rug, were a hard, unyeilding marble. At the top, the staircase broke off into three others, each exactly like the main one. The banister was smooth walnut, shining with wax, the ends rolled and curled under like paws. 

"Do you know how much fun that is to slide down?" a voice whispered in my ear. I jumped back, frightened, disturbed. I spun around to face my intruder. George's twinkling blue eyes, filled with warmth, stared down into mine. He was standing extremely close to me.

I melted.

My mouth transformed into a smile. "George!" I scolded lightly, slapping him on the arm. He winced in pain. "You scared me."

"I could tell," he smirked.

Suddenly, Professor McGonagall interrupted us. "Hello Weasley, Harris. Mr. Weasley, sir, I do believe your house is settling down into a delicious meal?"

George nodded and left, but not before giving me another heart-stopping smile behind Professor McGonagall's back. She had turned to face me. "And you," she started. I stared meekly at the ground, my hands clasped behind my back. "Come with me."

I followed her. She led me through a smaller door, off to the side, behind a pillar. When she pulled open the door, a collective gasp rose up from the occupants of the room. When she allowed me to enter, I was staring at about forty ten year-olds who looked extremely scared. A small, shivering boy, wrapped in a huge moleskin coat, was curled up in the corner, his bottom lip quivering and beads of water- or sweat?- rolling off his forehead.

McGonagall clapped her hands. "Hello, first years. I am Professor McGonagall, your Transfiguration teacher. You will soon be divided into one of the four houses here at Hogwarts: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin. In just a moment, you all go through that door right there-" at this, she pointed one long finger at the thick back door tucked in a corner. "-and sit down on a stool. You will then proceed to place the Sorting Hat on your head and it will tell you which house you are to be in. Does everyone understand?" I could tell that many of the young children did not know what this strange woman was talking about, for they couldn't have even known what lay beyond that door, but fear silenced them. No one spoke a word as Professor McGonagall turned to face me.

Her voice and face got much more stern. "I'm not sure what you are doing here, young lady, and you will talk to Professor Dumbledore about this later, but for now, all I can say is that you better be sorted with the first years, since you don't even know what house you're to be in. Just do as they do."

I nodded, embarrassed that I had to be told to do as the younger students were doing. Surely everyone would laugh when they saw me on the stage, cold and wet, sitting down on the stool in my damp, soiled robes. George would be so humiliated he ever talked to me he wouldn't be able to look at me again, ever.

"-by alphabet," I heard Professor McGonagall tell the group. I guess that meant I would be somewhere in the middle, my last name being Harris and all. She continued, "when I call your name, just walk through the door." With that, the Professor touched her ear with her wand, mumbled a charm, and pointed toward the wall. It burst open suddenly, and she walked through it calmly.

A moment later, a song started from the stage. I stared in bewilderment through the open door. It appeared that a ragged hat, which the teacher had placed on a worn stool, had burst into song. It's voice was rich and loud, carrying far. A minute later, it finished. I gulped. Yeah, talking hats alright... this school was weird.

Then Professor McGonagall began to call the names. When they reached, "Gareth!", I prepared to go out on the stage. But the next name called (there was a slight pause before it, as if the Professor was unsure of herself) was, "Henley!"

I slumped against a wall, rolling my eyes. Of course, something else to totally throw things out of wack. They skipped me. Now Professor Dumbledore would think I was some kind of criminal, or something, sneaking onto the Hogwarts grounds. He would have me expelled and sent back to the States, where I would have to live with my mother again.

"Prever!"

In that awful, huge house, where it takes fifteen minutes to get from the kitchen to my bedroom. And I would have to go to Yolanda's... that would be something alright. I would stick out like a green thumb. All those stuck-up snobs, only caring about clothes and make-up and boys...

"Yawitz!"

Or maybe, unfortunately, I would change. I would turn into one of them. And I would never get to see my Aunt Kella again... that would be awful. I loved her warm, comfortable house. And I wouldn't see George or Harry or Ron or Hermione. Or the wonderful entrance hall at Hogwarts. Hmm... Hogwarts was finally starting to grow on me...

"Harris!"

I snapped my head up. Pulling my mind from the cloud of dejected thoughts, I glanced around. Okay... I was the only one in the room. A white fog was starting to circle my feet, tugging me toward the door. Had I just heard my name? Apparently, I wasn't leaving England! I was staying! That must mean they put new students last.

I walked out onto the stage after a delayed pause. Squinting into the bright flourescent lights, I noticed George, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, Angelina, and Lee all waving their arms at me. Alicia sat there, her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. That was the last thing I saw before I dropped the ragged hat on top of my head.

Suddenly, a tiny voice filled my mind. I realized the hat was talking to me. He murmured, "Well, oh my, there's a lot of emotions in here... there's a good strong pull to get what you want in life, and an even stronger urge to achieve this shrewdly, that would be good in Slytherin, yet it doesn't match everything else... but then there's a sharp mind and a quick, dry wit- that would fit well in Ravenclaw... let's see, look at that courage and bravery, that honesty and chivalry! Perfect match for Gryffindor... but the most I see is a loyal friend, someone who will stay on your side, patience... diligent... that's the most, for Hufflepuff, but there's all the others... I guess... well..."

The voice was quiet for about fifteen seconds. I thought something must have gone wrong. I could feel the crowd's insecurity, almost see their baited breath. No one before must have ever taken that long. What's it gonna be? I said to myself.

The hat must have heard me, because it said, "What do you want?"

I thought. "Which house is George Weasley in again? Gryffindor?"

The hat responded quickly, "That's not the way to decide! There's a lot of other people in that house also- his troublemaker brother Fred, smart little Hermione, and the famous Harry Potter."

My mind froze on the last name. The hat noticed. He took a deep breath and finally shouted his answer. I heard it, but my heart sunk.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"


	9. The First Mistake

The First Mistake

The First Mistake

I took a deep breath, still slightly confused, took off the hat, and walked down the steps off to the side of the stage. A large table on the far right cheered and applauded, welcoming me, though many shared looks of confusion. An older student, transferring? That had never happened before.

I took another shaky breath and stared at the strangers. I felt so alone. I hadn't gotten to know any of the Hufflepuffs I'd been introduced to, when Harry, Ron, and Hermione had taken me around to the different compartments. There'd been so many people I'd been introduced to... but now, I recognized a popular-looking girl from one of the crowded rooms on the train.

I remembered her name because her friends had teased her about it when Hermione pointed her out as we stood in the doorway. Susan Bones-- that was it. She was a tall, thin girl with a deep tan and long, thick black hair. She had been dressed in casual jeans, a T-shirt, and clogs when I'd met her. Justin Finch-Fletchley, yes, that was his name, they'd been hanging out together, and now I recognized him sitting next to her.

She smiled and motioned at me to have a seat on her other side. I sat down gratefully, smiling back at her. "Hi," she said. "I remember you from the train. You seem a bit wet," she said, laughing, tilting her head pointedly at my damp hair and robes.

I laughed along with her. "Oh, well, yes, I am. A bit." Looking closely at her, I realized she wasn't wet at all. "Why aren't you, though?"

She shrugged. "Just a small charm I know. I pick them up everywhere, not necessarily from school. Stick with me and you'll learn loads of oddball stuff."

I quirked one eyebrow. "I think I might want to learn loads of oddball stuff, if it'll keep me dry."

She giggled and opened her mouth to say something, but an old wizard at the top of the Great Hall began to speak. I knew him to be Professor Dumbledore immediately. His flowing, silvery hair and beard, combined with his twinkling blue eyes and youthful smile, added such a pleasant, grandfatherly aura to him that I couldn't help but feel comfortable and eased.

"Hullo, my dear Hogwarts students. For my new first-years, among others--" at this he stared pointedly at me, smiling slightly-- "we welcome you to our school, and hope you manage to learn something this year. And as for the others, I assume that your heads are so full from the other years here, that you'll be wanting to clean them out. May good food and drink be the solution!" With that, the golden dishes on all the tables filled up, loaded with all varieties of food. "Tuck in!" was Professor Dumbledore's last comment, but it was drowned out by the steady laughter and chatter and the clink of dishes and silverware.

"Wow. Yum," I said weakly, having lost my appetite when I realized what all this food resembled. I felt like I was sitting at the Dursley's kitchen table again, and that had not been fun.

Justin Finch-Fletchley gave me a close-mouthed grin through his tuna casserole-- thank you for closing your mouth, I silently prayed-- and mumbled, "'ey! This is great! Dig in, you'll love it!"

I smiled tiredly. "I'll try," I said, helping myself to some of the things I hadn't seen in the Dursley's kitchen. I had to search up and down the table for a few minutes to find anything.

"So..." Susan started, trailing off hesitantly. She shot me a look and tried again. "What brings you to Hogwarts?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. My parents thought it would be a better education than all the public high schools in the United States. And I even have an Aunt living here I can stay with on break and all that."

She nodded slowly, eyeing me up and down. I felt uncomfortable under her scrutiny. "Well..." she started off, unimpressed. "I guess you'll survive as a Hufflepuff. You look more like a Gryffindor to me. Do you have any reason why the Sorting Hat put you in our house?"

I glanced down into my lap, my fingers twisted together. So lonely. I felt so lonely. I was stuck here in this huge castle, in a foreign country, without any of my old friends to talk to at night. And all of my new friends I would never see. Reluctantly, I answered her question. "He actually said I would've fit perfectly into any of the houses, but there was something about someone in Gryffindor that I wouldn't have worked well with, I guess, so he put me in here."

A look of recognition flashed across Justin's face. "Probably that 'Arry Potter," he said knowingly through a mouthful of food, spraying mashed potatoes everywhere. "I've 'ad some trouble with 'im in the past, myself."

A gave him a pained smile, nodding. "What kind of trouble?" I said, politely encouraging him.

He waved his hand. "Aw, it was nothing really. Just some stuff about my thinking he was the heir to Slytherin..." he trailed off, blushing slightly. "But that's all over with, you know. We all know who that was." Susan and him exchanged glances.

"You mean Voldemort?" I questioned, furrowing my eyebrows and leaning forward.

Susan whipped around to face me, her long hair flying. Justin's eyes widened and he began to sputter and cough on some food. As Susan absently patted his back with one hand, she trained her eyes on me. "You're like him, you know," she said disgustedly. "Just going around, spouting off his name like you don't have a care in the world. Don't you have the common decency to at least use the term 'You-Know-Who' around other people?"

My mouth opened and closed several times. I really had no way to answer her. I couldn't think of anything to say. So instead I turned back to my barely touched plate and sighed. If I was going to be stuck in this house, I was going to have a long year.

Susan was Little Miss Popular. Justin was a bit of a dimwit. And all the others apparently revered them in silent awe, without mind's of their own to go against anything anyone said. The only action I'd seen out of the other students at the table tonight, after they had stopped talking when I took a seat, was the chubby, pink-faced blonde on the end constantly nodding her head, her eyes ping-ponging from person to person. Hara, I dimly remembered her name being. No, wait. Hannah. That was it.

"So anyway, about that Harry Potter. I've sorta patched things up with him, but's he's a strange one, hanging around with that poor Weasley kid and that bookworm Hermione," Justin concluded, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners as he gave me a grin. I didn't grin back.

"Actually," I said, "I happen to like all three of them. If you don't remember, they're who I was with on the train when we went around to all the compartments. And I'm also good friends with five other Gryffindors: Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, George and Fred Weasley, and Lee Jordan."

Susan shrugged indifferently. "Well, you choose your friends. I just hope you choose the right ones, that's all." She turned back to her grilled chicken salad and dug her fork into it. The action was final. Clearly, that was the end of it.

Shaking my head in mild amusement and disbelief, I decided to change the subject. After an awkward second's delay, I asked, "So are you and Justin going out?"

It was a polite question, but the response I got was demeaning. Justin choked on his food again, this time with laughter, and Susan giggled, staring at me incredulously. "Going out?!" she squealed. "I wouldn't date his butt if you paid me!" They laughed together, and she ruffled his sandy blonde hair. "No, no, sorry. I meant I wouldn't go out with him ever!"

Justin chortled. "Well, as for whether I would go out with you, let's just say I'd rather be set up on a blind date with Pansy Parkinson!" The whole table laughed appreciatively, and Susan turned to face me again. She sported a mocking smile.

"Does that answer your question?" she smirked. "The answer's a big, fat N-O. We aren't. Justin and I've been best friends since we were toddlers. I don't even think of him as a member of the opposite sex anymore."

"Besides," Justin put in. "I've already got a girlfriend. Hannah over there." He nodded his head across the table, where a bright red Hannah was staring down into her lap.

"How you doin, Hannah?" Justin said roughly, dipping his gaze to try to meet her eyes.

"Fine," she mumbled meekly.

"That's good, baby. I only want the best for my girl," Justin finished, turning back to Susan without so much as a smile or, for that matter, actual eye contact.

I rolled my eyes and rose both brows. Those two? They hadn't said one word to each other all night. And as for their conversation... I wondered if Justin realized he came off sounding like a bad imitation of a cheap ladies man. Or at the very least, a fumbling mockery of a bad gansta movie. I decided it was in my best interest to refrain from asking Justin if either personality suited him.

Before I could engage my fellow Hufflepuffs in more enlightening conversation, a light tap fell on my right shoulder. I turned eagerly toward my savior. Whoever had rescued me from this mind trap was worthy of some serious respect.

An intimidating Professor Dumbledore stood above me, treating me with a soft grin through his beard. "Good evening, loyal Hufflepuffs. Would it be of great disadvantage if I stole dear Opal away for a mere minute?" The students smiled easily at their Headmaster, either comfortable with him or relieved to get rid of me. More likely a draw between the two.

"Opal, a word, if you will?" Dumbledore asked me, his eyes burning into mine.

"That's fine," I said. "I'm sure we have a lot to work out." As I followed him out of the Great Hall, I realized the meals from the dishes were starting to fade away, being replaced by splendid looking desserts.

I turned to glance over at the Gryffindor table. George looked up at that split second and caught my eye, grinning and waving frantically, beckoning me over. I shook my head reluctantly, pointing to the Headmaster I was trailing. He shrugged disappointedly, giving me a quick thumbs-up.

When we finally exited the noisy din and stood in the hushed cavern of the entrance hall, I still wasn't able to wipe the goofy grin from my face.

"Opal," he started, swishing off down the hall. I easily caught up to him, and in a matter of seconds we were striding along next to each other at a comfortable pace. "I'm sure there's many questions you want answered. Unfortunately, I am unable to do that. There are things you must discover on your own... though I will know the details when the time is right."

I listened in rapt attention to his papery voice slide over his tongue and out his mouth, practiced, precise, and uniquely sharp with rich texture. This was a man I knew immediately I could trust. He continued as we walked along, winding through shadowed passages, which were lit only by the flickering flair of torches and squares of ice white moonlight from the windows, high above.

"You have come here not only because of the logical reasons, though you may choose to believe what you wish. There is also a legend surrounding your return here-- a myth that has died out. Not many people believe in it anymore. But I know it to be true. The visions come at night, and when a wizened old wizard like me has visions, a person can't be more sure." He chuckled merrily, still strolling along. But I'd become confused.

"Professor, I'm sorry to interrupt. But you said 'your return here'. I'd never even seen Hogwarts, or heard of it for that matter, until a few weeks ago. How could I be returning to a place I've never been?"

He turned to stare at me with those cutting eyes. They seemed to see to the depths of my soul, but I wasn't afraid. "Opal. Such profound words for such a young child. You have no idea how right you are. Or how wrong." He closed his eyes and rubbed long fingers into the lids.

"I don't know how much you've heard, but all I am allowed to tell you is that when the time is right and the hosts are ripe with certainty, le Fay and Merlin will make their appearances," he said heavily. "This is why you have been sent here. A protection of sorts, yes, but also because it is what was written. You were to meet Harry Potter for reasons deeper and more horrifying than imaginable."

I gulped, my heart racing slightly. I'd heard part of what he was saying when I listened to Aunt Kella and Cornelius, but now it made a little bit more sense. Of course, it was still impossibly ridiculous, and I would never work it all out before the 'time was right'. Though I was probably supposed to.

We stopped at a door. I had no idea where it went, but apparently Dumbledore did. He opened it for me and when I walked out onto the small balcony, we were looking out over a large stretch of grass that led down into the courtyards and winding paths. I leaned against the railing, letting the wind tousle my now-dry hair, feeling the cool, dry flutters whisper at my cheeks. He followed suit, tugging his hat down a bit.

We watched the nightly activity in the gardens below us in companionable silence, but finally Professor Dumbledore spoke. "Why do things happen the way they do, Opal? Such a mysterious fabric, the universe is made of. 'Why' is such a remarkably general word, it can be applied to everything. But the biggest context I can think to use it in is the question why someone over someone else? Why her and not him? Why this exact person?"

He turned to face me. I stared out over the garden for a second, eyes squinted slightly. "I don't know, Sir. I was just asking myself that." It was quiet for a long minute when he spoke up again.

"'How' is also another favorite of mine. How are there legends, myths, and prophecies? How do the stars know what is going to happen before we do? What is the universe holding back from us that we cannot know, that we can only guess and imagine at?" he questioned softly, staring up at the stars, an unreadable expression on his face. But then it melted into joyous peace, and he finished with, "Alas, though I hate to admit it, it takes a certain burden off our backs, wouldn't you say?"

I nodded silently, watching him speak animatedly.

"To know that someone else, something else takes care of us? Intervenes in our life so that we stay on the properly beaten path?"

We stayed out there for another five or ten minutes at least, in complete and utter silence, admiring the beauty of unrestrained nature. Nothing interrupted this pure quiet, except for the raw, piercing cry of a bird.

"Well, we should head in, Opal," Dumbledore said finally, drawing his eyes from the stars, which he had been studying. I nodded and followed him back through the doors toward the Great Hall. I didn't cast any regretful looks or glances toward the stained glass exit. I knew I would be back.

(*)

"Minerva, I believe you've met our Opal Harris?" Dumbledore said cheerfully as he led me into his office. It was at the top of a long case of narrow, hidden steps, and the room was large, personal, and circular. After he'd closed and locked the door, he seated himself at his desk and motioned for me to have a seat. I chose the leather-padded armchair next to Professor McGonagall.

"Yes, I have," Professor McGonagall answered Dumbledore's question. "I was confused by her presence at first, but I'm sure everything's in order, Dumbledore? Why is she here? Not for the reason I'm thinking?" the strict teacher said, cutting right to the chase. She sat tensely, poised on the edge of her chair.

Dumbledore's cheery grin slipped a notch, but stayed intact all the same. "Yes, Minerva, she is here because of the prophecy."

My teacher crumbled, her head dropping into her hands. Her entire body shook as she desperately tried to get in control of herself. Soft, muffled sobs rang out briefly. I myself was horrified. Whatever could make this teacher weep bitter tears had to be awful. How could I do this? Fight something of such magnificent magnitude? I didn't even know what I was facing. I was struck with so much fear and worry of the future, that I almost keeled over right then and there from the nerves of it all. But I didn't. I forced myself to remain calm. When let loose, my tears would rival those of Professor McGonagall's.

"Now, now, Minerva... it's quite all right, I've known this for quite some time now. I suppose I could have let you know a bit earlier," he mused, looking on curiously as McGonagall pulled herself together. He sucked absently on a lemon drop. "The real reason I've called this brief meeting is because you are her Fourth Year Councilor, and should be present for such a big event."

"Event?" Professor McGonagall questioned, biting her lip. "What event is she to involved in?"

"Oh, well, it's not really anything big. We'll be switching her course schedule around-- I've already notified the house elves, they're moving her things as we speak--" Dumbledore explained smoothly.

"You don't mean...." McGonagall said, her eyes widened.

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded. "You are correct, Minerva. It was the first mistake, but how should he have known? His kind aren't aware of legends and lies, I'm sure."

"But the decision was supposed to be final. It's always been the rule," Professor McGonagall argued, firmly pressing her lips together. She appeared very irritated by something. "He's never wrong, not once, Dumbledore. That's why Godric suggested him in the first place-- the most honest answer of all."

"I'm sure that's all good and true, Minerva, but desperate times call for desperate measures. It's merely a matter of doing what has to be done. You know that, just conform to it. Please, Minerva," Dumbledore said, smiling.

It took her a few seconds of stony silence, but finally she cracked a reluctant, pained grin. "Well, she's a brilliant student, I'm sure, she'll rack up the points. And you are aware of my mild competitive streak, Professor."

Dumbledore began to laugh heartily. "Mild, my dear? Oh, Great Wizards! Too much excitement for one night."

McGonagall reclined in her chair a bit more casually. "You know," she mused. "He's probably not going to be too thrilled. People will say he made his first mistake, and assume he's going rusty. We may even get parents showing up requesting for their children next year. They'll say he's losing his touch."

"Oh, but no, McGonagall, dear," Dumbledore corrected wisely. "We'll know the truth. It may have been his first mistake, but it'll surely be his last. Godric was right: he's never wrong."

"Excuse me," Opal interrupted finally. Her head was a blur of confusion. She'd sat there for long enough, listening to all this chatter of he and him and his, and she had absolutely not the faintest idea in the world what-- or who, she guessed-- they were talking about. "What are you talking about? Who do you keep referring to? And why would my stuff have to be moved? My course schedule altered?"

"Sorry, Opal," Dumbledore explained. "Not your fault of course, I should have explained it from the beginning. See, the situation is this: the Sorting Hat was wrong." He stopped to smile deeply. "You're being moved to Gryffindor. It's where you belong." 


End file.
